


Inked Emissary

by Higgies230



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-07-28 06:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 30,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7628587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higgies230/pseuds/Higgies230
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is racked with guilt after Allison's death. He can't look at any of his friends, especially Isaac, and not think about all of the people he'd killed, injured or left with broken families. He knew that wasn't purely him, but it hadn't purely been the Nogitsune either.<br/>It's for that reason that Stiles left. Moving to a town named Greenwood, living with a room mate called Thomas Graham, who wasn't all he seemed, but then, neither was the Beacon Hills number 24 Lacrosse player.<br/>An unexpected turn of events and a new set of foes to face brings Stiles back home, but he's not alone...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The rain came down in driving sheets as everyone stood shivering. The sky was as black of the clothes that everybody wore, the smart attire drenched and sticking to clammy skin. But Stiles didn't feel the cold, not externally anyway. The rain, the vicar's voice, all were dull. All he could see was the gravestone which read 'Allison Argent'. The coffin ready to be lowered into the grave, the dark, cold hole in the ground where his friend would lie forever more. Because of him.

He could feel the grief and sadness pressing in on all sides, battering against his body with the same ferocity as the rain. Some part of Stiles must have felt the effects of the weather though; he shook uncontrollably and his head felt like it was about to split in two. Maybe it was just the build up of so many negative emotions. Either way Stiles didn't care, all he wanted to do was curl up somewhere quiet, somewhere where no one would disturb him because more than anything, Stiles felt tired. He was tired of not sleeping, he was tired of the guilt and he was tired of the way his friends looked at him; either as if he was a brittle leaf about to be blown away by the wind, or with the blame that shone to some extent in every pair of eyes he saw.

When everyone began to filter away he didn't notice, one minute everyone was there and the next it was only the Pack, Melissa, Chris and his dad. The vicar had finished and people had gone after giving Chris their condolences. Finally, Stiles looked away from the place where Allison's body rested, now just a patch of freshly dug soil. He looked to the sky and the dark grey clouds that covered every inch. Fat drops of rain beat down onto his face and it was then that he felt the cold.

Chris was the next to leave, then Melissa and Scott, who gave him a brief hug, and then his dad.

"Stiles, you coming?" he'd asked.

"Just a minute," was Stiles' whispered reply," I'll just take Roscoe back in a bit."

The Sheriff leaned close to his son and whispered in the teen's ear, "Don't blame yourself." With that he squeezed Stiles' shoulder and walked off into the rain. Now Stiles was very aware of everything around him, the initial numbness had worn off and now the world had come back in clearer detail than ever before. His tears mixed with the rain on his face and a single quiet sob escaped his throat. He was a monster, he always would be as long as the Nogitsune hung around. The teen could see the dark spirit standing there beside the grave, the bandages concealed all but the mouth from which twisted, sharp teeth protruded.

Suddenly hands grabbed his shoulders, a harsh grip from an assailant standing behind him.

"Hey!" Stiles protested.

He managed to turn enough to see Isaac's contorted face. His hair was plastered to his forehead and water dripped off of the end of his nose. His brown eyes gleamed with vengeful hate and Stiles shrank away from him.

The werewolf beta's mouth was twisted in a determined grimace as he dragged Stiles into the trees around the edge of the graveyard. Once there, he flipped Stiles around to face him and shoved him roughly against a tree trunk. The bark dug into the human's back but he just pressed himself further into it as he clutched at Isaac's arms, trying to pull the wolf off of him in vain. 

Stiles felt the sharp pain as Isaac's claws dug into his shoulders, he gritted his teeth, not allowing a single sound to escape his mouth. Fire burned bright in Isaac's eyes, a very vindictive fire that Stiles would rather not see there. Especially as that fire was directed at him. 

The fire then came his way in the form of a fist. The knuckles connected with Stiles' face causing an explosion of pain. The Sheriff's son doubled over clutching his head but he didn't protest, he knew he deserved it. Isaac grabbed his shirt, balling the material in his clawed fists as he roughly pushed him back against the tree.

"Got anything to say?" Isaac snarled. Now his eyes were literally glowing yellow. Fangs had grown and they were gritted in a way that told Stiles if he wasn't careful they would soon sink into his flesh.

"I'm sorry," Stiles gasped, he couldn't meet the beta's eyes. Guilt consumed his entire being and he knew that the apologie wasn't good enough, nothing would be.

"Sorry!" Isaac snarled, his eyes glowed a fierce gold full of hate," Sorry doesn't bring her back! She's dead! Dead! It's all your fault Stiles! You should be the one six feet under right now!"

Again he thrust Stiles against the tree as the human gasped for breath. Panic rose inside of Stiles, a definite oncoming panic attack, he could feel it welling in his chest. A growl rumbled deep in Isaac's throat and Stiles knew that he was loosing control of his wolf, the moon was high n the sky and it was almost full.

"You killed her! You did Stiles! You and your- your Oni! Out of everyone anywhere the Nogitsune chose you! You Stiles!" Isaac yelled straight in Stiles' face. Stiles stared at Isaac's clenched fists, absorbing the words, the words that everyone was thinking but only Isaac was saying. Always being helpful.

"There must be something about you, something special and unique. You must have some- some quality that the Nogitsune wanted. The only thing with that Stiles, the only thing is that the Nogitsune is a dark spirit. That means that whatever quality set you apart is bad. You must have some of that rotten love for chaos and pain," Isaac spat before he seemed to lose control again," Did you enjoy it when she was killed? Did you!?"

He shook Stiles violently, his back thumped against the tree again and again until he was crying out in pain and the werewolf finally stopped.

"You should leave, your a danger to everyone around you. Beacon Hills doesn't need someone like you, in fact, someone like you is the last thing Beacon Hill needs," Isaac snarled before turning and walking briskly away.

A few meters to his right Stiles saw the Nogitsune standing, sneering that sneer that was more of a snarl. The dark spirit chuckled as a single tear rolled down the teenager's swollen face. Stiles bowed his head and leaned heavily against the tree trunk. Maybe Isaac was right, maybe he should leave. He shouldn't still be seeing the Nogitsune for Christ's sake. And he shouldn't be seeing and doing all of the things that he suddenly was able to.

Stiles knew the reason that the Nogitsune had possessed him and he himself wasn't sure if that reason was good or evil. Isaac was right, he was a danger, especially when his powers were only just emerging with the expulsion of the Void and he had no idea how to control them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the confrontation with Isaac, Stiles can no longer bare the thought of staying in Beacon Hills, but is that may not be the only reason.

 

Stiles told everyone that he had fallen over so that he didn't have to tell them about his confrontation with Isaac. His left eye was black and sore but that was the least of Stiles' pain. The real pain was inside. He had submitted to the Nogitsune, he had let the fox in. He couldn't look anyone in the eye, not even his dad although he continually told Stiles that Allison wasn't his fault. It didn't help in the slightest. Malia had kissed him though.

 

The day after the funeral she had found him around the back of the school. He had been slumped against the brick, his hands splayed on either side of him as he tried to avoid everyone. She had come then and she had stood close in front of him.

 

"Do you remember that time in Eichen House?" she asked him as she raised his face to hers.

 

"Yes," had been Stiles' answer.

 

"I'd like some more of that, if that's okay," she'd said quietly," I really enjoyed it last time, I really enjoyed being with you."

 

It was then that she had planted the kiss on his lips. Soon Stiles was kissing her back. One hand rested on the smooth skin of her cheek while he buried the other in her thick, silky hair. In that moment he had been filled with a warmth that had previously left him ever since he had been possessed. But it had done little to dampen his resolve, if anything the kiss only served to strengthen it. Malia was just another person he had to protect. And to do that he had to leave, just as Isaac had said. He had to at least learn control first.

***

Stiles had everything planned out. He had more than enough credits to graduate straight away and that's what he planned to do. He had applied for and got a place in Greenwood College, one of the best colleges in America. He'd go to college after the summer vacation, until then he'd already arranged a job as a shop assistant in a grocery shop.

 

The job would cover his half of the rent and his food. Yes, Stiles had already sorted accommodation. He'd be sharing a flat with a guy called Thomas Graham, he was in his second year at Greenwood College. The fact that he had gotten in encouraged Stiles that he'd be able to hold an intelligent conversation with his room mate. It was all thanks to the owner of the shop were he was going to work. The man, Henry Jones, was aware of the supernatural. He was learned in mythology and many of the properties of certain items linked to the preternatural.

 

They had met one time when Henry had come to Beacon Hills, the shop keeper had asked if Stiles knew about the myths around werewolves, soon they had gotten into a full conversation about the mystic goings on in the town. They had been friends ever since and so he had helped Stiles find accommodation to go with his job. No one but his dad knew of his plans and Stiles wanted to keep it that way. The Sheriff wasn't happy about loosing Stiles but he seemed to understand that his son needed a break from Beacon Hills, a town full of ghosts and bad memories. Now it was here, the last day, exactly a week after the funeral.

 

Stiles went to school as normal and bumped into Malia. She smiled foxily at him and he couldn't help but follow her into an empty classroom. She was the one with her back to the wall this time as they passionately kissed. He leaned into it, one hand splayed against the wall, the other clutching her lower back. The werecoyote went to slip a hand under his shirt and he flinched as her fingers brushed the scar across his stomach and pulled back slightly. The scar from where he'd slashed open his stomach as the Nogitsune to release the flies.

 

She raised her head to look at him. Stiles swallowed and then guided her hand back up his abdomen. Her fingers gently caressed the blemish. She leaned forward until he could feel her breath on his cheek. "How did you get this?" she asked, her lips brushing against his neck.

 

"When I was... possessed I slashed open my stomach," he confided.

 

He felt her go still as soon as he said the word 'possessed', then she nodded briefly when he'd finished. She moved her head again until their lips once more brushed. He was acutely aware of her hand on his stomach and the other caressing his hair. She smiled and he felt it as her mouth curved. They fell back against the wall once more.

 

"I never took you to be someone to have a six pack Stiles,"Malia said and Stiles couldn't help but laugh at her comment, he was cut off half way through as she pressed her mouth into his once more. When they drew apart once more, his resolve broke. He gazed at her for a moment filled with sadness that he'd finally found someone and he had to leave her. Malia was his anchor, her name had pulled him from the Nogitsune's clutches, she had been the one he'd given in to the fox the second time for. He'd let the fox in so that he'd leave Malia alone.

 

"Stiles?" Malia tilted her head to one side, obviously aware of his despondency .

 

"Malia, I'm- I'm, oh... Okay, Malia, I'm leaving Beacon Hills," he to confessed to her.

 

"What?" her brow immediately creased," Why? When?"

 

"I'm leaving tomorrow. I can't stay, this town is full of too many ghosts," Stiles told her, folding her into his arms, as much for his consolation as her's.

 

"Who knows about this Stiles?" she said into his shoulder.

 

"Only my dad and now you. I'd like to keep it that way, please don't tell Scott," Stiles' voice shook slightly.

 

"Of course not," she pulled back and looked straight into his eyes," I want to come with you. Trust me, your not the only one with ghosts."

 

"No Malia. I'm going onto college, you can't follow me there, not yet anyway, and besides, your father has only just got you back. You'll break his heart all over again," Stiles so wanted to say the complete opposite. He was plunging into the world on his own, it would be truly amazing to have someone with him, especially someone as strong as Malia.

 

"I guess your right. But you said not yet, I can tell in your eyes that you want me to come with you. A year and a half, I'll come if you haven't come back by then," the coyote promised," but I'll need your number, and where exactly are you going?" Stiles smiled in relief, he hadn't expected her to back down so easily, well really she was just compromising. He swung his bag off of his back, ripped a piece of paper out of his pad and scribbled down his mobile number.

 

"I'm going to a town called Greenwood and also to Greenwood College. I promise to keep in touch," Stiles made his own promise.

 

"I'll meet you at your house tomorrow Stiles, don't even think about leaving without saying goodbye," she smiled halfheartedly. He gave her a similar smile in return and kissed her again quickly before leaving the classroom in a hurry. He couldn't stand to stay there and see that deep sadness in her gorgeous brown eyes. He felt empty, the move had now become much less desirable.

***

Malia could see the pain in his eyes as he told her about his departure. In the short time that they had known each other, they had grown really close. The werecoyote guessed that was what happened when you survived something like Eichen together. It didn't matter, he was leaving and he felt as if she had been stabbed. She only backed down because of that pain in those gorgeous light brown eyes. It had hurt Malia to submit but she could see that Stiles was overwrought by his situation and she cared about him so she didn't want to make it any worse. The werecoyote had meant what she'd said. The aim of trying to get into Greenwood just meant she had even more of a reason to study, and Malia was determined to succeed.

***

Dawn came too quickly. Not that Stiles slept. He just lay on his side taking in every last detail of his plan, trying to forget all he was leaving behind. The yellow rays of light shone through Stiles' eyelids but he didn't want to open them, not yet. He was driving Roscoe all the way to Greenwood, it was a good thing that the jeep had recently been patched up. He hoped to get to his new apartment that night so that he could start work the next day. Oh how he was looking forward to work, all of the problem solving he'd submit his brain to, like how many cans of beans could he fit on the shelf. No he couldn't wait for college, at least he'd be doing something towards his future.

 

The alarm went off at half eight and, begrudgingly, Stiles opened his eyes and rolled out of bed. He took the last shower he'd take for some time in this house, his childhood house, and got dressed before checking his things. He'd left a lot of stuff, only taking the things that mattered to him most, which wasn't much, and his clothes and essentials like a toothbrush. Toothbrushes were always useful, God, Stiles hated morning mouth!

 

He triple checked his things before hoisting his pack onto his back and grabbed all of his other luggage. Taking one last look around his room, he turned and left. He traipsed down the stairs and out of the door, dumping his possessions into the boot of Roscoe before turning back to the house. He ate his breakfast in silence with his dad. A heavy cloud of loss lay over the pair and the Sheriff avoided Stiles' eyes.

***

He held onto his dad for a long while, breathing in his scent deeply. Tears rose behind the adolescent's eyes but he refused to release them. Finally he drew away and the Sheriff gave his son a weak smile.

 

"Don't be a stranger, keep in contact, okay or I'll be forced to come over there and kick your ass into shape," the dad chuckled sadly.

 

"Course not," Stiles smiled back and hugged his father one more time before turning to Malia.

 

She stepped forward held him tightly. He wrapped his arms around her in turn, each pulling the other as close as possible. Her face was buried into his neck so that her luxuriant hair brushed against his chin and cheeks. It was then that the salty tears rolled down his face. Stiles kissed her on the top of the head and squeezed his eyes shut. He had to do this to keep them safe, he didn't even know what he was anymore, he was a danger. Who knew, maybe he'd learn control and be able to return in just a few months. Or maybe he'd be happy in Greenwood, and the others would be happy here without him. After an age, Stiles pulled away, he gave the two one last low-spirited smile and climbed into Roscoe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this, I hope you enjoyed it but please please please comment and tell me how I could improve or give me any direction that you'd like the story to go. I do have everything planned but it is really a skeleton plan, so any ideas could give more flesh to that and could create the potential for some cool twists and turns! I'd be very grateful for any input, two (or more) heads are better than one as they say.


	3. Fresh Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles arrives in Greenwood and the Pack don't know what to make of Stiles' sudden departure.

Stiles arrived late that night. The apartment was on the third floor and as Stiles climbed he thought about his decision. That just depressed him so he decided to concentrate on the weight of his luggage but that was a mistake as he only ended up feeling immensely tiered. Then it was finally there  number twenty eight, a blue door, like the rest with a brass number.

  Stiles raised his fist and hesitated for a split second before knocking. A few seconds after that the door opened wide and there stood a young man of about eighteen with blond hair down to his shoulders. He wore a flannel shirt over a plain white t-shirt and jeans that had obviously seen better days. What really caught Stiles' attention was his eyes, they were shadowed with mistrust, _great_ , Stiles thought, _two paranoid strangers living in close quarters_.

"Hey, um my names Stiles, I'm your new room mate," Stiles offered up an awkward smile, God he had terrible people skills.

"Oh okay, nice to meet you dude, I'm Thomas, Thomas Graham," Thomas gave Stiles a smile that didn't fully reach his eyes, he stood to one side and beckoned for Stiles to enter the apartment.

***

  Stiles had unpacked the night before, adding a slight personality to the bare white walls of his new room. He hadn't slept that night, despite having his pillow and the smell of his old room that came with it. Already Stiles missed Malia and his dad, he had to keep reminding himself that they were safer without him around.

  He rose from his bed at seven and dressed hastily. He was expected at the shop at eight and Stiles didn't want to be late, this job would be the only thing holding him up until he started college and got his student loan. He walked slowly into the kitchen to the sizzling sound of something frying, that something being bacon by the smell.

  Thomas stood at the stove, shirtless and facing away from him but Stiles could tell from his stance that the guy knew he was there.

"Do you want bacon?" Thomas asked without turning round, confirming Stiles' thought.

"Um, no thanks, I'm not really a breakfast eater," Stiles said trailing a hand over the kitchen counter as he made his way to the cupboards. All he wanted was a glass of water.

  Thomas turned to him with a raised eyebrow," you do realize that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. You've graduated early, that shows you have some brains." The way he said it told Stiles he hadn't meant to be unkind but the words were very patronizing. The guy seemed to have the same level of social skills that Stiles had.   _The makings of a close friendship, two guys that are not only paranoid buggers but also have the same amount of social prowess as Isaac Lahey has style_ , Stiles thought. _I hate his stupid scarves_.

"I know, my dad says it all the time. I just can't stomach eating in the morning," Stiles said, searching the cupboards for a glass. The truth was that he could barely stomach eating at any time of the day.

  He finally found one and he smiled slightly at the small, stupid victory. When he turned around though, the smile was replaced by a grimace as he jumped out if his skin. There in the corner stood the bandaged monster that still haunted him.

"You okay?" Thomas asked in an offhand manner.

"Yeah, thought I saw something in the corner but it was just a trick off the light," Stiles ripped his eyes away from the Void and laughed nervously.

***

  Stiles had left the kitchen hurriedly and driven to work without glancing back at that corner. Mr Jones had been waiting outside the shop, eating  an apple and saying 'good morning' to an elderly lady that passed.

"Stiles! It's good to see you again," the typical warm smile that the shop owner always wore was just as pleasant as ever as Stiles climbed from the jeep.

"Good to see you too Mr Jones," Stiles said, reaching out to shake his new boss' hand. 

  The smile faded slightly as Mr Jones raised his eyebrows at the teen. Stiles knew what he was going to say before he said it and so matched the man's words as he said them," call me Henry," they said together. That made them both laugh.

***

  After a quick explanatory tour, _Henry_ set Stiles to work. He spent the morning stacking the shelves with things like cans of beans and jars of sauces. In the afternoon he swept and mopped the shop floor. The tasks weren't mentally testing at all and Stiles found his mind wondering back to Malia and her promise. What if she was able to really carry it out? Would Stiles be ready, safe?

  He couldn't help but smiling at the thought of Malia coming half way across the country just to go to college with him. It seemed almost unreal, it made Stiles feel as if he meant something. Maybe she felt an attachment to him as he was her first love. He knew that, for some unknown reason, he felt something quite strong for her. Then again... eighteen months was a long time.

*** 

  When he'd finished his allotted time, Stiles plucked a sandwich from cooled  section and dropped the money into the till. He said goodnight to Henry and got back into Roscoe. His day had been unnervingly _normal_ , lacking the supernatural touch that had been in every day of Stiles' life for the last few years. 

  He spent  a bit of time driving through the town, partly to get familiar with it and partly because strangers were likely to give him panic attacks and he didn't want that. Stiles knew he was putting off getting to know Thomas, but he couldn't help it, when he was four he had made friends with Scott McCall and that had been enough. Although Stiles hated to admit it, all of his friends, the Pack, had been drawn by _Scott_ , he knew them through _Scott_ , he had been around them when he didn't know them because _Scott_ was there. He had a lot to thank Scott for (Lydia, Malia) and a lot to give him a slap around the back of the head for (Isaac, Derek, Peter and Isaac again).

  Finally, he drew up outside of the park. The evening air was cool and it bit at Stiles' face and arms as he strolled down the gravel path and sat down on a fairly new wooden bench. He took a bit of his sandwich, ham and cheese, and gagged as he swallowed the food. 

  He really couldn't stand eating, it had been hard ever since the Nogitsune had possessed him. The Nogitsune had fed off of strife and pain and chaos, not any food edible for people. Stiles thought that his body was still adjusting, or he hoped so because he hadn't eaten properly in days.

***

  The next day, Stiles had been sorting out boxes of supplies out back. At least it involved more thinking than the previous day, but nonetheless, Stiles had returned to the apartment feeling drained, boredom did that to a person.

  He had returned before Thomas so he decided to sit with his laptop and do a bit of studying. Stiles planned to take a joint honor in criminology and psychology and also a degree in social justice, it''d all help in his plans for a job in law enforcement. He was reading about the different behavioral patterns that criminals got caught up in when Thomas entered.

  He slung his bag down onto the floor and immediately the room was filled with an awkward tension. Thomas tried to avoid looking at Stiles' as he went about searching through his college notes and Stiles stared determinedly at the computer screen. 

  That must have gone on for twenty minutes before Thomas spoke," hey, I'm cooking lasagna for dinner, you want some?"

  Stiles looked up at the invitation. Maybe this was what would help them to make friends." Yeah sure, thanks."

***

  The food smelled delicious and tasted it too. They chatted awkwardly about Greenwood college and about the courses Stiles wanted to take, how Thomas was taking courses to become a doctor. Stiles smiled and contributed when possible, the silences were painful. Half way through the meal, the Void materialized behind Thomas and Stiles couldn't help but gag as the bandaged hand reached out as if to stroke Stiles' room mate's hair. 

  He had to hide his hands under the table as he lost that bit of control, just as he did nine times out of ten in the Nogitsune's presence. He could feel Thomas' curious gaze on him and he forced himself to look at the guy.

"You okay? You seemed really freaked just then," he leaned forward slightly and Stiles had to concentrate on his control before placing his hands back on of the table top.

"Yeah, I'm good mate, just tired I guess. Thanks for the food, your'e a great chief," Stiles nodded and smiled as he got up, chair legs scraping across the kitchen tiles." I think I'll head to bed."

***

  Scott took off his helmet and slipped off of the bike after Kira. Lydia's car pulled up behind them and the banshee climbed out. They stood before the Stilinski household, something was defiantly up with Stiles, he hadn't been to school for two days and he hadn't replied to anyone's messages.

  The three strode purposefully up to the front door. Lydia strutted in front, her head held high, ready for a confrontation. Her heels clacked against the pavement, acutely loud to Scott's werewolf ears. The banshee knocked firmly on the door and it was the Sheriff that opened the door a few seconds later. The man's face fell when he saw his son's three friends.

"Hey," was all he said.

"Is Stiles there?" Lydia asked.

"No," the Sheriff said quietly.

"What do you mean, do you know where he is? is something wrong?" Scott was worried by the sadness in the Sheriff's eyes.

"I don't know where he is, but his stuff's gone," Stilinski said, sounding utterly defeated.

"What?!" Scott exclaimed, incredulous. "Where did he go?" Scott asked, he could already guess why.

  The Sheriff sighed before answering," I don't know Scott, he just left. Didn't tell me anything, I found out myself."

  Scott frowned. Stiles couldn't just leave, they needed him. And where would he go? Beacon Hills had been Stiles' home all of his life and the Sheriff was his only family. The human teen must have been more effected by the events of past weeks than any of them had guessed.

***

  Stiles lay on his new bed under the covers, trying desperately to find sleep. Immersing himself in work  hadn't helped to take his mind off of things, and that work made a waste of his beautiful brain. All he could think about was the Nogitsune, he had let the spirit win, he should have been stronger, he should have been smarter. No matter how hard he fought, how persistently he screamed for release, no matter what move he made it wasn't  good enough. The Nogitsune had always been a step ahead. Allison was dead as a result, and Stiles could bet any money that the Nogitsune was the reason for the new... _occurrences_ that Stiles was experiencing.

  Stiles screwed the material of the duvet in his fist, _just sleep!_ he told himself. He was just closing his eyes, cutting out the real world, when his bedroom door creaked open. There stood Thomas, his golden hair was given a halo by the faint light coming from the hall. For a moment the guy stood there and Stiles made his breathing even do that he appeared asleep, only daring to open his eyes  a crack. It was then that the Sheriff's son saw it, the eyes.

  Stiles' room mate gazed down at him with golden eyes glowing through the darkness. The young man seemed startled and confused at what he saw, what Stiles had first seen when he'd taken that photo of himself after the Nogitsune. Stiles really shouldn't have been surprised that Thomas was a werewolf, Stiles seemed to be drawn to the supernatural, but he was shaken still. He had really wanted to escape back to a normal, human life.

  Stiles rolled onto his back and thought of that time when he had first discovered his own flicker of  preternatural. One thing he wished with all his heart had never happened. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope that you are enjoying this so far


	4. Preternatural (flashback)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just a little flashback to fill a few holes. I hope you enjoy!

  _It had first happened when Stiles had first separated from the Nogitsune. The dark spirit was still feeding off of his pain but there was also something developing inside of  him that hurt. On the first day back as himself, he had been sat on the sofa in Scott's living room, alone. The Nogitsune's thoughts flashed through his mind through their still existent link and suddenly the power came rushing to his fingertips. His hands had suddenly been enveloped in green flame, writhing and dancing around his fingers._

_Of course, Stiles had freaked but almost as quickly as the power came, it was gone. He was left staring at ten seemingly normal digits. That was how Scott found him a minute later, still staring._

_***_

_The next time the power showed itself was when Stiles was walking through the woods. There were few places that he could go now that didn't bring up painful memories but he felt drawn to the woods. Stiles couldn't explain the pull he felt, the longing, but it was there._

_Stiles was walking through the woods when the Void appeared, leaning against a tree. Stiles continued walking,_ he's not there _, he kept telling himself. That was when his feet lit up with the same flames that his hands did the first time. His shoes melted away from the extreme heat that Stiles couldn't feel, and to the teen's horror, the dry, dead leaves beneath his toes began to ignite. he panicked and tried to stamp out the flames but, of course, that only made things worse._

_Then, and Stiles wasn't sure if he was relieved or freaked, water had come from the ground, spiraling in fat droplets to his hands. From there they had formed a glistening orb that reflected some of the light that shone through the trees, causing little rays of multi-coloured to bounce off of it. That orb then burst, splashing water all over the flames, extinguishing them, but passing around Stiles, leaving him completely dry._

_***_

_Two days before Allison's funeral, Stiles lay on his back on his bed. The sun had begun to set and so orange light danced around the room, interspersed with creeping shadows. The shadows were far more common than the light. He thought he saw movement in the corner of the room and so he squeezed his eyes shut. He opened them again and gave the room a thorough look-over, finding it to be Nogitsune free._

_Stiles could feel the wound-up tension leave him as he flopped back down onto the bed. It was only then that he felt the rush within him and he launched himself off of the bed as the green flames rushed to his fingertips. Frantically, he blew on them, trying to extinguish the fire. What was happening to him?_

_He willed the flames to disappear, willed it with all of his heart, and they did. It was then that Stiles caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on his wardrobe. The bright, new-leaf green was just fading from his eyes as he gawped at his reflection. It was the eyes that gave him the idea._

_Stiles remembered all of the trouble they went to to delete an image from Kira's phone. Her fox spirit, her eyes glowed. His eyes glowed, what if the Nogitsune had left_ him _a fox spirit? Stiles scrabbled for his phone and snapped a picture with trembling hands._

 _The teen stared at the screen for several minutes, there was defiantly something there, but it wasn't a fox. The longer Stiles looked, the more his stomach churned. Confusion and fear boiled inside of him as he looked down at the shape of a_ wolf _._

_It was different to Kira's fox. Her spirit had been translucent but constant. The spirit weaving around Stiles' form was... it seemed to be made of sparks, like a tight group of stars forming the shape of the predator, the same colour that Stiles had seen in his eyes. The spirit's eyes... those eyes, they were different altogether, they stood out as distinct, almost solid, pearls of green. They looked directly at the camera, at Stiles, and it was those eyes that captivated the teen. It was probably only the eyes that stopped Stiles from breaking down into a panic attack._

_They were filled with a fierce loyalty and determination. There was a fir there that, strangely, comforted Stiles. Maybe it was the fact that they showed strength, something was there to protect him at last. Also, Stiles could see a feminine hint there. Was the spirit_ female _? Stiles thought so, he could feel it in his bones. It made him laugh. What was the world coming to?_

_Well, it was a world that obviously made Stiles Stilinski a supernatural being._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of your comments, it is really great to know that I am doing something right with this! Thank you.


	5. Borden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It appears that Stiles can't stay away from the supernatural even when he is trying to have a break.

That night, Stiles struggled to sleep. The Nogitsune was standing resolutely in the middle of the room and Stiles had to fight off the overwhelming surge of... the only word to use would be _magic_. The Void was obviously the trigger. 

  Somewhere around midnight, he heard breathing at his door and assumed it was the Nogitsune. Then Thomas opened the door. Stiles lay very still, unsure of what to do, so he made his breathing even so as to appear asleep. He kept his eyes opened a crack and so he saw the moment when his room mate's eyes changed from a dull blue to bright gold. Werewolf gold.

  Stiles froze for a moment but he didn't think that Thomas noticed because the werewolf had also tensed up. Thomas had seen Stiles' spirit and knew that he wasn't human. So much for an escape into a semi-normal life. The cackle of the dark fox rattled around in his head and he couldn't help but put his hands over his ears. 

  It was then that Thomas moved. The werewolf practically lept across the room and grabbed Stiles, pinning him against the wall. 

"What are you?" Thomas' voice was low and dangerous, distorted by his wolf side.

"I-I don't know," Stiles stammered and his thoughts kept flashing back to Isaac pinning him against the tree after the funeral except there was rage in those eyes, Thomas' were full of fear and confusion." Honestly, I came here in the hope that the pack here, the emissary, would be able to help."

  After a few moments of staring at each other, Thomas  deemed it safe to let Stiles go. He crawled back off of the bed and straightened out his nightshirt. Stiles could see the tension still evident in the set of his shoulders and he wondered if it was a good thing that Thomas knew about him. Maybe Thomas could get his emissary to help. Yes it was a good thing.

***

  The next morning Stiles woke with a pit of fear in his stomach but for the life of him he couldn't think why. He lay staring at the ceiling as his mind slowly kicked into gear, then he remembered the encounter with Thomas the previous night.

  Slowly, very, very slowly, he got up and dressed. The t-shirt was loose but he still felt his chest constrict. Stiles knew that one of two things could happen; Thomas could be part of a pack and that pack could rip him apart, two that pack could not rip him apart. 

  Then his mind started to wonder. Two possibilities! That was absurd, there were so, so many things that could happen that it was quite frightening to think about. Stiles knew from experience that you could prepare for all possible outcomes in anything. Well, he was okay at chess... 

  He mentally scolded himself as his mind wondered down further and further paths into random and absurd places. _Get your butt into the kitchen and get some breakfast Stilinski_ , he told himself.

 ***

  As Stiles entered the kitchen Thomas looked up. For a moment their eyes met, whiskey brown and sky blue. A conflict of fear and curiosity. Stiles dropped his gaze a moment later but was painfully aware of the inquisitive stare that  his werewolf room mate held.

"What are you?" Thomas asked after and age.

  Stiles' head jerked up and his gaze was briefly caught by the Nogitsune standing next to the wolf before he forced it to Thomas. He licked his lips and took a moment before simply answering," I don't know."

  Thomas looked him up and down, the curiosity burning so bright in the blue that it made Stiles uncomfortable.

"But you must know something because you didn't just look at me like I'm crazy," Thomas pointed out and Stiles felt that he had to say something, just not the whole something.

"I saw you come into my room last night. I know you are a werewolf," he said.

"But you're not afraid?" Thomas leaned forward in his seat slightly, the cup of coffee in his hands forgotten.

"Slightly, but your eyes were yellow, you haven't killed an innocent before so I have some hope that you won't start now," Stiles chuckled, more from nerves than anything. He stopped though when the Nogitsune started up his rasping laugh.

  Thomas' eyes narrowed as he said," You must know about my kind to know that information."

"Yeah I guess," Stiles swallowed," I've had... experience. Werewolf friends, werewolf enemies. You know, you get to know. Kind of did a lot of research myself after... After my friend became one. So yeah, I guess." Stiles was painfully aware that he was blundering over his words.

"Are you an emissary?" Thomas asked.

"A glorified human messenger pigeon for wolf packs? No," Stiles replied.

"And you left your friends because?" 

"Answers," Stiles was getting more and more uneasy with every question that his room mate asked.

"To what?"

"To what I am okay!" Stiles snapped having reached the end of his tether.

  Thomas sat back and nodded in contemplation. He looked Stiles over again before saying," I may be able to help", with that he got up and left the room, leaving Stiles with his toast and the Nogitsune.

***

  The house was big, the big pack members lived there. An old family Thomas had said. One of the most powerful wolf families in America aside from the big big families like the Hales had been. The house. Big, yes. Creepy, yeah it was pretty creepy. The front sported a big wooden porch and big windows, a big old door. The place was tidy, obviously cared for, but the age gave it a sinister feel, an air of mystery.

  Thomas waved an impatient had at him as he paused on the steps to the porch. He was very relaxed in comparison to Stiles. Well, that was only to be expected, after all it was his pack that they were going to visit. The Beacon Hills teen took a deep breath of the very clean air. So clean that it bit at his nasal passage.

***

  The man came striding through the halls with an easy confidence and an encouraging smile. He was dressed in a black leather jacket that would have made Derek very jealous. The guy had a scar running from just beneath a graying hair line on the left side of his skull, across his face, over his nose and brushing the corner of his mouth until it came to a rest on the right side of his chin. Such a brutal disfigurement should have made him intimidating but the crows-feet radiating from blue eyes and the easy warmth that surrounded him made the complete opposite true.

"You must be Stiles," the man's grip was firm as he shook Stiles' hand with friendly vigor. 

"Yes I am," Stiles said stupidly.

"Well I am John Borden. I am the alpha of this pack, hopefully we can help you," the man said as Stiles nodded." Well then, welcome to the Borden Pack home."


	6. Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles begins to work with the Borden Emissary Mitchell and finds out just what kind of creature he is.

Stiles met some of the wolves in the Pack the day that he first visited the Borden home. There was a wide variety, some were very confident and inquisitive while others were grumpy and reserved, although none could quite top Derek grumpy. All in all Stiles had been welcomed, something that would never have happened in Beacon Hills, well Scott was a welcoming kind. Scott the soppy wolf.

  John had apologised over and over that Mitchell, the Borden emissary wasn't there. He was away meeting with another pack on John's behalf, apparently. It was this Mitchell guy that would be the most likely to help Stiles, that was according to the pack leader and Thomas. A help when he got back, which wasn't meant to be for a few days. Stiles could wait.

***

  Thomas had brought his friend Sarah back to the apartment. She was nice, friendly, pretty and very _very_ good friends with Thomas. They sat and ate pizza together, Stiles trying his hardest not to be awkward, and almost pulling it off. 

  Thomas explained that he had come from rough backgrounds, Sarah his only friend. He hadn't gone into detail and Stiles didn't ask, it wasn't like he had poured his life story to the guy he hardly knew. Nonetheless, Thomas was much more open with Stiles now that the Pack leader had excepted him. He and Sarah told Stiles of how they had been bitten and taken into the family because John had seen them helping a homeless man despite having nothing themselves.

  Not long after the meal Stiles left to shut himself away in his room. He hadn't spoken to Malia since arriving, it had been three days. He picked up his phone and dialed her. The phone rung for only a minute before she picked up.

"Stiles!" she cried, excitement obvious in her voice.

"Hey Malia, how are you?" Stiles was so glad to hear her voice. It din't even make sense, he hadn't know her that long but her was just _so_ happy to talk to her again.

"I'm good. I still don't get maths and I don't think Scott and Lydia are to happy about you leaving," she confessed, the bubbly good cheer only temporarily left her voice," I am so happy that you picked up that phone Stiles Stilinski! Are you going to tell me about what's happening?"

"Yeah Malia, just don't tell my dad, I think I will tell him myself," Stiles couldn't help but smile as he listened to Malia's familiar breathing.

"Sure Stiles, just tell me!" 

  With that, Stiles told her all about working in the shop and the Borden Pack, he left out the bit about still seeing the Nogitsune and reasons the true reasons for interacting with the Pack in the first place. She then told him all about her lessons and, though only three days had passed, she seemed to be settling into the school routine and Stiles felt a bubble of pride swell in his chest. It was when she had finished her recount that he asked the question that had been nagging him.

"Malia," he took a brief breath before continuing." Why do you want to come all the way to Greenwood to be with me when we hardly know each other?"

  There was a long pause on the other end of the phone before Malia spoke, carefully and quietly.                 " Scott explained this thing to me Stiles. He called it having an anchor, I think that you are my anchor Stiles. You were the first person I really enjoyed being around after I turned back into a human and I think that stuck."

  Stiles couldn't help but beam," I think that you are my anchor too Malia," he confessed.

"What? But Scott said only supernatural creatures could have anchors Stiles," confusion was evident in her voice and Stiles cursed.

"Yeah about that," he took a deep breath, why not tell her? She was at a safe distance," That is one reason I left. I started being... being able to do things and I had a... I an aura around me like Kira's. I came to find answers."

"WHAT Stiles?!" Malia yelled.

"And you are so not going to tell Dad!" Stiles hastily added.

"Why didn't you just tell me or your dad? I'm sure Deaton could have helped you!" Malia exclaimed.

"I was, I am dangerous. I can't control this and I didn't want to hurt any of you. Plus the ghosts really were getting to me, I didn't lie about that," the teenager was getting flustered and Malia must have heard because she softened.

"Okay, I... I think I understand," she said after a long while, she didn't seem to shore of what she had said." I better get back to my studies. Thanks for calling Stiles and I hope everything gets sorted. Just don't leave it three days next time."

"I won't," Stiles smiled, almost relieved," 'Night."

"Good night Stiles."

*** 

 Two days passed before Mitchell returned to Greenwood. In those two days Stiles went back to work in the shop, having to explain partly to Henry as to why he had not turned up the previous day. The guy had excepted the fact that he had met the local Pack and didn't press him further. That was one thing that Stiles was very grateful for: the shop keeper's laid-back, excepting nature. Of course there was an element of curiosity, that was how he came to learn about the supernatural, but it was easily sated.

  And there his mind went again, following its own trail of thought. It was happening more and more lately and Stiles didn't find it very encouraging.

  Mitchell. The Borden Pack emissary, supposedly a bit of a nerd when it came to rare and exotic preternatural creatures. The best chance Stiles had.

***

  Stiles, Thomas and Sarah all entered the Borden grounds together. Stiles had gotten to know the she-wolf a lot better of the past days, as much as you could in such a short time. She was a good person to be around, unlike any of Stiles' other female friends, and she didn't look down on him like the majority of them did.

  The sun was high in the sky, warm and casting a brilliant light onto the Borden garden making everything seem to glow. The flowers of so many different colours, all carefully organised, gained a new life. The trees stood tall, ancient and proud. Stiles took all of this in as his heart pounded at a hundred miles an hour. This Mitchell sounded like some kind of wise man with bad ass attitude, not the kind of guy that Stiles was comfortable with and, if Mitchell was to help him, it sounded as if they would be spending a while in each other's company.

  They got to the porch and were intercepted. John came bouncing round the corner of the house, a smile lighting up his face as he caught sight of us. The jacket was gone, it was far to hot for one, and in its stead was a worn t-shirt. A t-shirt so old that you'd never think to see it on a guy that lived in a house as big as, and had as much money, as John Borden did.

  John led them through the house to the old library. Stiles had been in there the first day he had visited the mansion but only briefly. The amount of books had made him drawl and he knew Lydia would be the same. 

***

  The books sat on shelves that stretched the entire lengths of four of the five walls and reached right up to the high ceilings. Ladders reached up to the tops of these shelves and tables pilled with yet more books resided in the middle of the room accompanied by cushioned chairs  on an ancient rug. Lamps sat on these tables also giving of soft yellow light. To the back of the room stood a heavy wooden door, through which was Mitchell's 'office', essentially another library filled with books specific to his, interests, or so Thomas had told him.

  Balanced on one of the ladders was a man that Stiles hadn't seen before. The guy, he assumed it to be Mitchell, was wearing a tweed jacket with patched elbows, the kind that you'd see nerdy teachers wearing. Long, coarse brown hair was tied back, streaked with grey. When the guy turned Stiles saw that he was wearing an extremely worn t-shirt that might once have been some kind of band merchandise,  it made John's shirt look brand new.

  The man jumped smoothly down from the ladder when he saw them. He didn't smile but his eyes lit up. His face was creased and weather-worn, rugged but not unpleasant. It looked as if he never smiled with his mouth but one glance at the eyes was enough. They were dark blue, so dark that they were almost black and they held a life of their own.

"Mitchell," the guy strode over purposefully and snatched up Stiles' hand in his calloused one, shacking it vigorously. His voice was as calming as his gaze.

"Hi, I'm Stiles," Stiles said quietly, the guy had this aura about him as if Stiles was standing before a higher being, although he knew that Mitchell was just a man.

"Yes I know who you are. John phoned me while I was away," the emissary said.

  Stiles, rather self consciously, to see John, Sarah and Thomas still stood there. He looked to Thomas, perhaps for support, and John said," We'll leave you to it then." The three left and Stiles was only partly glad for it.

  Mitchell gestured wordlessly for Stiles to sit and he obliged, sitting on one of the cushioned chairs that stood under the tables. The man then proceeded to crouch in font of him and stare intently at his face and, in particular, his eyes.  

"Thomas said that he saw an aura around you, one like a wolf, green," Mitchell said this almost breathless with excitement.

"Does that mean something to you?" Stiles asked.

"Hopefully I'm right, and if I am then you are one of the rarest supernatural creatures ever. I study the rare ones and Sparks have always been my favorite." Mitchell said with an almost boyish enthusiasm. For a moment his whole face lit up but then he seemed to regain composure and that wise man look returned.

"A Spark? Is that what you think I am?" Stiles questioned. 

  Mitchell hummed his agreement as he turned away from Stiles motioning behind his back that the teen should follow. Stiles scrambled from his seat and hastened to follow the older man through the door to his office.

  The inside of the office was very much like a smaller, older looking version of the library they had left, comfortable, warm and crammed with books. Certainly these books were older than those in the main library, all very heavy looking, leather-bound and worn. Mitchell strode over to the shelf at the back of the room and pulled one of the books from its place. 

  The book fell open in his hands, exposing the yellowing pages. The ink on the paper stood out as a dark royal blue. Mitchell carefully, reverently, turned the pages until he got to the one that he wanted.

" _Sparks_ ," he read," _One of the first varieties of supernatural creature to grace the earth. A creature that was more similar to man than any other, the power of a Spark could remain hidden for years. The Sparks were revered for their controls of the Elements in ancient times and often worshiped. With every century that passes however the gift of the Spark becomes rarer. The gift was originally gained by a woman that had stood strong against a preternatural evil, her soul becoming something more from that experience. It is thought that all Sparks either gained their powers in such a way or it may well be hereditary. Because of the few numbers there is therefore very little known about these wonders. The Spark is thought to be a myth and it is debatable even with experts if there is any left today."_ Mitchell looked up at Stiles who was frowning. The mention of fighting a "preternatural evil" sounded very familiar and the Nogitsune stood opposite was the best reminder of that.

"John tells me that you have had run ins with the supernatural before us, you wouldn't happen to have gone against a dark creature. The look on your face says you have," Mitchell said all of this firmly, with obvious purpose.

  Stiles' eyes flicked up to meet those of the emissary, brown meeting blue. He quickly debated whether or not to tell the man before him about the dark Kitsune, he barely knew him. In the end he settled for half the story," I was possessed by a Nogitsune but it's gone now."

"A Nogitsune?" Mitchell seemed as equally interested as mortified," they are nasty things. How did you get rid of it?"

"Um, a long story. In the end we trapped it in a box carved from the Nemeton."

  Mitchell's lips twitched in the first smile that Stiles had seen him give, it was quite a nice smile. One that Stiles wouldn't mind seeing more often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very sorry for the delay and thank you so much for all of your comments, I am still fairly new to all of this so your support means a lot. Thank you!!!


	7. Adversus Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delving deeper into Stiles' powers.

For some reason, Mitchell didn't mention Sparks the next week. Stiles phoned Malia every night even though his life was falling into a steady routine. He would go to work, come home from work. The shadow of college was looming ever closer.

  In that week he was able to grow closer to the Pack, well John, Mitchell, Sarah and Thomas.  The last two especially became his friends. They would often stay up late laughing and talking about the most random and pointless things but it was warm and comfortable. He also got to know Malia more, talking over the phone was sort of awkward but they managed and would end up talking for hours. When Stiles went to sleep sometimes he would see her face instead of the Nogitsune's and he knew he was falling for her. Which was soppy and something he'dd expect from Scott.

  Mitchell took Stiles to his office a few times in the week. He pulled all sorts from some place, teaching Stiles how fully exploit herbs and plants like mistletoe and wolfsbane. He taught Stiles how to mix herbs for poisons and healing. A mix of abscess root, barberry and just the right amount of wolfsbane and mistletoe made a very strong mix that would help a werewolf's already accelerated healing to increase still. Much to Stiles' surprise, wolfsbane was used in very small quantities in all of the healing remedies that the emissary taught him.

  Although Stiles enjoyed the lessons, they were incredibly interesting, he had to question them. He didn't see how they would help him with controlling the Spark in him. So he asked.

"Um Mitchell? Why are you teaching me this and not, I don't know, something to do with Sparks?" Stiles asked.

"All in good time Stiles," Mitchell said, not looking up from the mixture he was crushing with a pestle," there are many reasons that we are doing this. One is because you can benefit from this knowledge with your mixing with the supernatural. Two we can get to know each other and that will help you relax in my presence for the next part of your learning. Thirdly, I can't be an emissary forever and there is a chance that you can take my place, if I continue to like you. So, there is plenty of point to this, and as a bonus, it is fun."

"Okay," was all Stiles said after the rapid fire explanation.  All he could think about was the fact that Mitchell liked him enough to offer him the chance to take over from him as the _emissary_ of the Borden Pack.

***

  In this time Mitchell also tested out Stiles' limits seeing as Sparks were a thing of myth and there weren't detailed analogies of their powers.

  The pair found that Stiles had an immunity to wolfsbane, although it tasted vile, and he could cross a line of mountain ash. Stiles hadn't had his full powers before the Nogitsune and since he hadn't had reason to cross the ash and so the feeling that he got was surprising. As he crossed there was a few green sparks, the same colour as the wolf that was entwined with his soul, or his familiar as Mitchell said. At the same time Stiles had felt a rush of power that turned his stomach and left an unpleasant feel in his gut. When he asked about this Mitchell said that that wouldn't be the feeling for most of his magic only when his was fighting against another source.

***

  Scott snarled down at the omega werewolf beneath him. His face was distorted by his wolf side and so was that of the blue eyed wolf under his clawed fist. He didn't understand where all of the supernatural creatures were coming from. 

  First had come the wendigos, a whole family, then two kanima and now the wolves. This was the fourth and all of this had been in the last few weeks. Why was this happening?

  Scott's new beta Liam came crashing through the trees to come to a halt beside the pair on the forest floor.  Liam was just getting over his anger, something that had been a big problem when Scott had been forced to bite him. Now he stared with concern at the werewolves snarling at each other in the leaves.

***

  Deaton looked down at the unconscious man at his feet, chained to an iron girder that acted as a support for the room. Wendigos and  kanima as well as other wolves were bound in similar manners around Derek's basement.

"Why are they coming Deaton?" Scott asked the druid.

"I don't know, it's as if the Nemeton's power has been awakened but that is impossible," the vet replied.

  Deaton was a wise man and the whole Pack knew that and so his unease made them very uneasy. Even Malia standing in the background had an odd sense of foreboding, she had half a mind to tell Stiles but that would make him come running back to Beacon Hills when he needed to be in Greenwood to complete his training.

***

  _Two weeks later_

  Stiles looked down at the big book in Mitchell's hands. It was the same book that Mitchell had shown him the first time that they had met. The emissary had something about finding more about his Spark abilities.

  Mitchell gave him a foul tasting concoction that he had brewed from a recipe in the book. It was meant to increase the energy of the magic within Stiles.

  The potion thing worked after about five minutes, well Stiles felt it working. He could feel the flow of magic in him, sense where it wanted to go and how to direct it. The feeling was so unlike that which the mountain ash had induced, it was invincibility.

"Stiles, the potion has awakened the awareness within you, it is meant to help you channel your powers," the weather-worn emissary said to him.

  Stiles just nodded, knowing what he had to do. He let the power surge to his fingertips and twist into brilliant green flames. The teen saw Mitchell's eyes widen and he felt ecstasy at the control. He then closed his palms, extinguishing the flame and started his concentrating on the whirling power he felt in the air and earth. He knew that it wasn't magic, somehow, but water vapor in the air and droplets in the ground and he felt akin to it. He drew on the water and it swirled up out of the carpet and condensed from the air. That made Mitchell gape.

  As Stiles let the power leave him he looked up to see Mitchell staring at him.

"What?" Stiles asked self consciously. 

"You were possessed by a Nogitsune which are very powerful entities so it would explain," Mitchell muttered to himself more than to Stiles.

"Explain what Mitchell?" Stiles asked, afraid, excited and annoyed all once.

"Well Stiles," Mitchell started," there are three varieties of Spark; Elemetum, which just means elemental, is a Spark variety that have control of one element, they are the most common Spark, the Spark that is know most about. And I am saying common but keep in mind that all Sparks are incredibly rare as you already know. The second type, slightly rarer, is the Quam, meaning "more than one", this Spark can control two elements. Finally and rarest of all comes the Adversus Spark. Adversus means opposite or adversary, Adversus Sparks are so incredibly rare that there has thought to be maybe fifty in history and if you think of the trillions of people that had lived that is a very small number. Adversus Sparks can control two opposite elements; air and earth or _fire and water_. They are so much more powerful than other Sparks, the woman that was the first Spark was thought to be one. And you are too Stiles." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the long break, I would love to promise that that wouldn't happen but I don't know what will come up so all I can say is sorry. I will finish this story and try to do so soon as possible- once again thank you for all of your comments!!


	8. Nogitsune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles uses his powers to get rid of a... nuisance.

Stiles walked through the college gates with Sarah and Thomas on his first day. He had been coming on leaps and bounds with his Spark control and was beginning to achieve the awareness needed with smaller and smaller amounts of the potion in his system. He had also started studying Marks, symbols that were used by Sparks to focus their magic.

  Henry had been very understanding about Stiles not always turning up for work, excepting that he was not mindlessly wasting his time, and agreeing to pay him on the days he did turn up. Now he had a student loan anyway.

  Stiles had also been calling Malia every night and was defiantly head over heals, he kept her updated and she told him about how her school life was going and how well she was grasping things. She kept telling how it was only a year before she came to Greenwood with him. He had also called his dad a few times but those phone calls were mortifying as the Sheriff's voice was always so full of loss.

  But now after six months he was going to college to take a Crime Prevention and Crime Analysis course. Sarah and Thomas, or Tommy as he now preferred Stiles to call him, were going to the college also and despite being two years older than him they were only in the year above.

***

  Stiles quickly settled into college. The lessons were welcome after six months away from any real mental challenges. That was nerdy, he knew.

  He was also growing closer to Tommy and Sarah. Malia's phone calls were also something he looked forward to but in contrast his dad's were the thing of nightmares. The sorrow that emanated from his voice haunted Stiles and he could tell also that the interactions were hard for the Sheriff. Stiles knew that it shouldn't be like that, a father and son parting so that the son can go to college; normal. What wasn't normal was the supernatural dangers they had faced. The Nogitsune incident had really shaken John Stilinski and Stiles suspected that that was the main reason for his father's opposition to his staying in Greenwood.

  The Nogitsune was something that was worrying Stiles more and more as well. As he practiced his Spark control, the Nogitsune seemed to become more prominent and also bolder. These days he was there almost as much as he had just after Isaac had trapped that fly in the box carved from the Nemeton. 

  The bandaged face would haunt his dreams, he would speak with that strange hissing slur which would slip into his father's voice. Nogitsune, father, Nogitsune, father. Threatening his loved ones, threatening to take back control and make him kill every last one.  Stiles often woke screaming.

***

  Tommy had obviously told Mitchell about the nightmares, he had often come running as Stiles' scream pierced he otherwise silent night.

  The nightmares was the reason that Mitchell had confronted him and the reason that he started teaching Stiles about the runes.

  Stiles had confessed that the Nogitsune was the cause of his nightmares, that the Nogitsune was there in the day to. That had made Mitchell pale.

"That is not good Stiles," he had said. He had then proceeded to pull an ancient looking book off of the shelf. There was gold lettering across the leather bound front, faded with age to a point that they were illegible.

  The book turned out to be full of runes and chants that could channel a Spark's magic through something other than their elements. He said that Stiles had enough control over his magic now to attempt them.

***

  It was night, cold and dark. Stiles was standing in his room with his light off and curtains open, moonlight streamed through the uncovered window. It gave the room the feeling that things weren't quite real, weren't quite there. Except that the Nogitsune definitely was. It was growling and standing very close behind Stiles. The teen tried not to turn but he was terrified of the dark fox spirit and the aggression that was shown in the primeval noises escaping it's mouth.

  Stiles had been attending college for six months and practicing runes for four. The thought that it was only six months before Malia came popped randomly into his mind.

  He pushed the thought aside and bent down, trying his best to ignore the angry spirit. He drew a knife and cut a hole about a meter and a half each side into the carpet. He pulled the carpet back to reveal the floorboards beneath. The rune had to either be drawn in full darkness or in the light of the full moon. His book said that the light of the moon was strongest and he needed all of the strength he could get. This was a more complicated spell than he had yet tried.

  He carved the rune into the wood while the Nogitsune began to tell him everything that he would do to Stiles' family and friends if he continued. Stiles shuddered but continued. Once he had finished he brought the knife to his hand and, after a moments hesitation, draw it across his hand.

  The Spark winced at the sharp pain but the knife was so sharp that it slide smoothly through his skin. As the blood welled up he squeezed his hand into a fist and let the scarlet blood drip onto the rune that surrounded him.

  As the blood splattered against it, the self mark lit up in a soft green, full of the magic from Stiles' veins. He looked down at it, the gentle glow, the colour of his magic, cast a mysterious light against his hands and arms. He only looked for a moment though as he gathered himself to stand and turn around.

  The Nogitsune stood there, inhuman teeth grinding in the bandaged face. He was bathed in that green light but he could not cross the line of the rune, the magic was just too strong.

"I'm warning you Ssstiles, you won't like what happens if you do this," the spirit growled, Stiles ignored it. He just glared at it as he began to chant quietly.

"I must not fear. Fear is a little death that brings obliteration," the Nogitsune growled again, deep and blood curdling and Stiles had to fight to keep his voice steady as his nerves increased," I will face my fear and permit it to pass over and through me. And when it has gone pass, I will turn the inner eye to see its path. And when the fear and darkness has gone there will be nothing."

    Stiles paused and drew a shaky breath as he felt the pure power surging through him and the rune. Green sparks rose from his feet and the mark he carved. They skittered across the floor to the Void and started to wind up its legs, beautiful and deadly at once. The Nogitsune screamed, an inhuman cry that sent a chill through Stiles and set his hair on end. However, as he spoke the last line of the spell he was completely calm, his Spark side was fully present, the magic his entire being. The wolf circled him, weaving though his legs and swirling up around his body. She was there with him and he had never felt more safe with her there and visible.

  And so in that serenity he breathed the last line," Only light and I shall remain."

  The Sparks burst up, they were every where in a frenzied and yet orderly mass. They whirled through the air with grace and for a moment there stood an undulating green mass, screaming and writhing, then there was an explosion of green light and the Nogitsune was gone.

  The sparks swirled slowly and calmly back to him. They reached his fingertips and his hands glowed softly as the magic returned to its place within him. It was so beautiful and unearthly, Stiles watched transfixed as it returned from around the room and up from the rune. When the sparks had returned there just stood the wolf. She licked his hand lovingly and looked up at him briefly before leaping up,rising against gravity ti curl around his body, her paws in line with his waist. 

  Her soft glow sunk back into his skin and he was left alone in the moonlight, no Nogitsune but no wolf either. The memory of the magic played behind his eyes and he stood for a moment in stunned awe. That had never happened before when he had been using runes to say transfer from one place to another. But then that had been simple magic.

  Stiles thought complex magic was so much better.


	9. Beacon Hills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little interlude to catch up on the town that Stiles left behind.

Blood dripped from Scott's extended claws as he raced through the woods, Derek and Liam at his side. The gashes in his side were already starting to heal but his shirt was ripped and bloody, he was feeling slightly weak at the amount of blood he had lost and he could see the other two in similar states. In all the three of them weren't doing well.

  There were four rough, Alpha-less betas. They weren't quite omegas because of their grouping but they were as vicious as them.

  Scott was at a loss as to where they had come from, why they were here and why they seemed to be hellbent on taking them out. They had simply been going into the woods to scout the area, something they did regularly in the light of all the new creatures. They were walking along and talking quietly when they had been attacked, now they were running.

   They reached a clearing and Scott decided they had done enough running. He stopped and turned, his betas doing the same. For a moment the three stood, faces distorted by their wolf, tense ready for the oncoming fight.

  The moon was hidden behind clouds and a thick fog was oozing from between the trees, dulling everything. Through the fog they could hear the wolves though. They were crashing haphazardly through the undergrowth following the sent of Scott, Liam and Derek. Scott shuddered, they were mad, their wolf had too much control and it wasn't even full moon.

  After what seemed to be an age, they arrived. The four seemed to separate from the fog, like separate pieces of it solidifying. Their blue eyes glowed though the murk and their growls mixed with those coming from the True Alpha and his betas.

  The rouge betas only stood there for a minute before leaping at their quarry. The biggest went straight for Scott, teeth bared and full of confidence from their successful surprise attack. What he seemed to forget was that they were prepared now, they had no chance. He was a True Alpha, Liam was the strongest beta that he had ever encountered and Derek had a lifetime of experience.

  The werewolf leapt at his throat regardless but Scott jumped forward too. He wouldn't kill the beta, his only disadvantage, but he wouldn't stop at hurting him to protect his Pack. So Scott raked his claws across the other's chest, the beta giving out a pained howl but his rage just increased.

  Another beta joined the attack on Scott at that point and he was vaguely aware of the other two on Liam and Derek. Liam's one was already down and the youngest wolf was already  getting into the formation they had planned. His back was pressed against Scott's a moment later as one of the betas attacking him turned on Liam.

  Scott lunged again and used all of his supernatural strength to land his fist in the side of a beta's head. The wolf crumpled, his face slowly starting to shift back to human. It was at that moment that he heard Derek's pained howl and he spun to see Derek's beta with his teeth sunk into Derek's shoulder.

  Scott raced over to the Hale and grabbed the beta's face. The wolf unlatched his teeth and shook his head from Scott's grasp. While he was distracted however, Derek thrust his palm into the wolf's temple and he crumpled just like his comrade. 

  When Derek and Scott turned to Liam they saw the last beta at his feet. As Scott had said before; he was the strongest beta he had ever come across.

***

  The betas were secured in the basement with the other creatures. Scott hated doing this but he would not kill them and he couldn't let them roam free. The chains were lined with wolfsbane so the wolves and wendigos and kanimas couldn't escape and they were fed and given water regularly but still...

"You shouldn't worry so much Scott," came Malia's voice, she was the werecoyote in the Pack, a strange girl who didn't quite understand people and preferred to just observe and only get involved when she felt the need to.

" You can't let them go and for some reason you can't kill them, this is the other option," she said.

"You really don't have any problems with killing do you Malia?" Kira commented. The coyote growled at her but didn't move, Scott was grateful that his girlfriend's pointless, and thoughtless, comment hadn't started a fight. He was just too tiered.

"If Stiles was here he'd know what to do," Scott muttered but every one heard him.

  He was so worried about his friend, only the Sheriff seemed to know where he was and he wasn't saying anything. Stiles' dad hadn't even given a reason for the sudden departure, although Scott had a good guess.

"I just hope he is okay where ever he is," Lydia said. She was glad at that moment that Isaac had left with Chris to go to France, he would have just snapped and said all sorts of things about Stiles that would definitely caused a big fight within the Pack.

***

  Malia left the basement long before anyone else. She didn't know what to do, Stiles was still in college, from what he had told her he had made friends and had a really good set up. Besides, he was still learning how to control his magic, she couldn't tell him.

  She was full of guilt, she felt as if she was being torn in two. She wasn't helping the Pack by keeping Stiles away but Stiles would have wanted to help, especially now that he wasn't just some weak human. The guilt was just amplified when she saw the Sheriff. She found that she couldn't talk to him or be around him, although he had tried to talk to her in the beginning as the only other person who knew where Stiles was. He had given up pretty soon when she had made it too obvious that she was avoiding him.

  All of this crossed her mind as she walled up the dimly lit steps to the ground floor of Derek's building. By the time she reached the light she knew that once again she would not tell Stiles about any of this. 


	10. Ide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to do something about the she-wolf.

Stiles had been free for a month now. He slept well and the bags beneath his eyes had disappeared. No evil entity plagued his waking hours. The Nogitsune was gone!

  Stiles had found that he had been able to relax a lot more in the aftermath of his banishing spell and that helped him in so many aspects of his new life.  With the Nogitsune gone he was able to get closer to Sarah and Tommy, their friendship growing and strengthening every day. He was also able to concentrate more on college and his marks just kept getting better. He also began to control his powers without the help of Mitchell's potion. Slowly but surely he was less and less each time he practiced with his magic until one time he didn't need it at all.

  Stiles, Tommy and Sarah had also taken to regularly walking in the forest behind the town. They would do this in the day and at night, which was Stiles' preference. He loved the smell of pine needles, which only seemed stronger under the starry night sky. He loved the freshness of the forest and the way that it was so still and quite with the moon watching over it. The three friends would often walk along in silence, just savoring each other's company and the tranquility amoungst the trees. There was only one problem that had arisen for Stiles following the ritual and that was the constant ache for the she-wolf.

***

  It was another full month before he told Mitchell about his problem. He had been struggling with the empty feeling for all of that time and had not been able to shake it. At first he had thought that it would pass, but as the days stretched into weeks, and eventually those weeks into a month, he had realised that the feeling was only more intense.

  Mitchell looked at him for a long while, there was sadness in his gaze and for a moment Stiles could not comprehend why.

"It is said to be that way with all of the stronger Sparks, with all those of the Quam and Adversus varieties. It's called soul sickness, the she-wolf you saw was part of your soul, the part that only Sparks have, the part that gives you your magic. The more powerful the Spark the more powerful the soul, including the bit that gives the magic," the emissary explained.

"So, if it's a sickness there's a cure, right?" Stiles asked uncertainly. 

"Of course there is my boy!" Mitchell's dark eyes lit up," and you are ready for it."

  The man shed his jacket then and smoothed down his t-shirt, it was warm in the study and Stiles had wondered at how he had been able to wear the item of clothing for so long.

"To cure this ache you must make the magical part of your being physical, the part of the soul that is causing the conflict is the familiar. Familiars are often portrayed in many ways through out myth but all speak of a companion bound by magic. The truth is that the familiars are magic themselves, only Sparks have them as Sparks are the only truly magic race. 

To create a familiar in a physical form, one must cast a strong spell in a place that holds only good feelings. The spell is complex and leaves the Spark with a rune on their very skin. But only good can come of this, having a physical familiar gives you more control over your power as Spark and familiar are able to form a closer bond. As for runes on the skin... there are many tales of Sparks inking their skin so that they can use the runes to focus their power without having to draw the runes out each time. These tattoos help to focus the power thus making the magic stronger and more effective. So hey, what is there to lose," Mitchell babbled.

  As he spoke, the man pulled one of his books on Sparks down form the shelves and set it down as gently on the desk as if it had been a newborn. He lent down over the pages, a stray lock of hair fell down in front of his face which he impatiently pushed back. Stiles had not seen Mitchell bubbling with so much excitement in all of the time that he had known him, but he had to admit that the whole notion had him on edge as well.

***

  Mitchell and Stiles entered the forest clearing with the full moon high above them. It was a place where Stiles held only fond memories, a perfect  place in which to preform the ritual.

"Why do we have to do this in a place of only good feelings," Stiles spoke, suddenly curious.

"The familiars must be called forth in only good will Stiles," Mitchell said, not looking at him but surveying the trees and sky about them.

  The sky was dark, pitch black but for the sprinkling of stars and the orb that was the moon, hanging in the middle of the sky. There was a faint breeze which carried the freshness from the nearby lake and the soft hoots of owls. The leaves in the trees danced in that breeze, singing in hushed, earthly tones. This was definitely an appropriate place.

  Together he and Mitchell knelt and cleared leaves from a large area in the center of the clearing. Once that was complete, Mitchell retreated to the trees and Stiles drew a knife.

  The Spark steadied himself with a deep breath, running the ritual through again and again in his mind as he cut a unity rune into the earth, large enough for him to comfortable stand in the center. With that done he straightened up and pulled his t-shirt up over his head, throwing the material to the side as he revealed his toned body to the moonlight. He stepped into the middle of the rune and couldn't help but shiver as the same breeze that made the leaves things turned to nip at his bare chest and back.

"Now Stiles," Mitchell said from behind him.

  Stiles took another deep breath and shakily gripped the bone knife handle in his hand. This was the part of the ritual that he really wasn't keen on following through. He hesitated for a moment but thoughts of his she-wolf familiar hardened his resolve. He lifted the knife and drew it across his chest from his left collar bone to where his ribs ended on his right side.

 The Beacon Hills boy was unable to help it when his breath hitched, blood pouring from the sizable wound that he had inflicted upon himself. _It needs to be done_ , he told himself. The familiar needed a path through which she could leave Stiles' body, this was that path.

  The blood began to soak into the top of his trousers, crimson staining the blue, he did nothing but cup a hand to collect some of the liquid. He tipped up his hand once it was reasonably full, the crimson decorated the earth for a brief moment before the rune Stiles had cut began to glow with green magic. It was a deep, beautiful green, varying slightly in shade from one spark to the next giving it an even more exotic appearance. 

  The sparks danced, curling up Stiles legs and drifting through the air much like oddly coloured jumping-jacks. He concentrated on the pretty light display and banished all negative thoughts from his head, with was easy given his environment.  The pain in his chest was ignored and it faded to nothing more than a dull ache at the back of his mind. 

 "The spirit in wolf form resides in my heart. Mostly peaceful yet ever wild and powerful. She runs in time with the wind. Dancing in the cloud that drift in the heavens. Now I say freedom to run at will. A physical form to imbue with power. For the spirit of the wolf that resides within me... Awaiting the call to the physical world which I now answer!" Stiles could feel the power rising in him and was aware of the way his voice rose with it until he was shouting to the night sky," And when you come, don't walk behind me, I may not be able to lead! And don't walk in front of me as I may not be able to follow! Instead, spirit, walk beside me so that we may be equals, be one in two bodies! Walk beside me through the world as I walk beside you! Beside each other forever!" The magic was beginning to drift from the gash in Stiles' chest, waiting for the one last line and for the name. With one shuddering breath, Stiles knew the name and he called it out," Come Ide!"

  The magic poured from Stiles and he fell to his knees. The green glow lit up the forest twisting until it formed the shape of a giant wolf, taking up the entire sky, out-shining the moon. Stiles gasped as he felt the pull on his soul, but it was warmth that he felt, as if something had just been mended inside of him. He looked up to see the green shape of the wolf hanging in the sky, much in the same way as the Northern Lights.

  All of the magic in the sky began to swirl into a mass of green flares, it spiraled down to the earth gain gracefully and soundlessly. Then it began to cohere. Stiles felt the rush of magic, it surged around him and made him giddy until his knees gave way and he was kneeling in the middle of the rune on the damp soil. The magic began to move more vigorously as it reached the ground, Stiles could quickly see the beginnings of a wolf shape with in. 

  It was over suddenly. There was a flash of deep, forest green and there the she-wolf stood. The same green colour was in her eyes, sparks of green still dancing at her feet as they were slowly absorbed. Then her eyes faded to a golden-brown, much the same colour as whiskey. The same colour as his eyes.

  Her thick grey mane was  ruffled by the breeze as she took a tentative step forward, testing out her new form. Her paws moved silently as she moved towards him with increasing confidence and he was transfixed by her beauty.

  As her last paw crossed the rune line there was another great surge of magic. The wolf's eyes began to shine softly with the green light and there was a flash as Stiles saw through her eyes and he knew that his eyes were doing the same. At the same moment, a shear wall of the green energy burst into the sky to surround the still kneeling teen and his familiar, cutting them off from the rest of the universe.

  Slowly, Stiles reached out a hand to her smokey coat. He was reeling with all of the magic that he felt around him, with in him and with in _her_. It was the best thing he had ever felt.

  The she-wolf leaned into his touch and their gazes locked. Her fur was thick and soft but what he felt was more. There was a deep intelligence in the currently green eyes and he could feel her mind wrapped with his, could sense her personality but the strongest thing there was the feeling of love. It was as if they had both been waiting their entire lives to be united, that they were meant to be together, and maybe that was the case.

  The wolf was his Ide. That was what he had named her, he didn't know why but he had just known that was her name. So maybe he hadn't named her, but her had acknowledged the name and that was all that mattered because it had called her to him and for the first time ever he felt whole.


	11. Malia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malia arrives in Greenwood, the 18 months after Stiles left Beacon Hills is up.

It was all good for Stiles. He was part of a Pack and he had almost complete control over his powers. And now he had Ide. It had been eighteen months since he had arrived in Greenwood, he had finished his first year at college and Malia had graduated, she was moving to Greenwood and starting at the college.

***

  It was only weeks before Malia's arrival that Stiles had gotten his first tattoo, in the style of the true Sparks. It was a rune from the ancient looking book, it was a rune for water and he got it on the left side of his chest. Water was one of the elements that he controlled but it was his weaker one, the rune amplified the ways that he could manipulate water. The next week he got the rune for fire on the right side of his chest.

  By the eighteenth month he could summon water from the air and earth with ease, often using it to heal himself even the littlest cuts and scrapes. He could do it without thinking by that point. But with even more ease he could pull the fire from his very veins, for fire was his true element. Fire was the element that he was made of and he often called the green flames to his fingertips just to watch them dance in the middle of the night.

  Ide slept beside him always, he was never alone in the night. Of course the big wolf couldn't come to college with him but she was always welcome at the Borden home. The Pack would always give her tip bits and would tumble and play with her. Even when she was playing she looked magnificent with her smokey coat and whiskey eyes. She had a wisdom about her as well and Stiles felt that he had known her all of his life and, in  a way, he had.

  The best bit about Ide though was the preternatural link that they shared. Whenever Stiles partook in complex magic she would become a green ghost, her magic swirling around him to join with his own. There was also the mental connection, they may once have been one and the wolf may have Stiles' eyes but Ide had her own personality and they could talk through their physic connection. They would often have whole silent conversations in a room-full of unaware people, although Mitchell always seemed to know. The wolf didn't have human vocal cords and so couldn't speak to the world but Stiles often relayed what she said to him to whomever she wished.

  The very best times were in the forest where Ide had come into being. Stiles, Ide, Tommy and Sarah would often disappear into the trees. She would bound over the leaves, the sun breaking through the canopy above to dapple her fur. She would hunt and they would often go to a stream and splash about, just the four of them in their own world.

*** 

  He had spoken to Malia the night before, she was packed and on the next train to Greenwood. As he left his bedroom that morning his excitement was obvious so much so that as he entered the kitchen Tommy raised an eyebrow at him. He was nursing a cup of coffee, as he was every morning, and was reading a history text book for his college work.

"What are you reading that for? There is no college for weeks," Stiles commented as Ide trotted into the room.

"Because, my friend, college may be out for now but not forever. I am doing work now so I don't have to do it later. Now, tell me, what are you so excited about?"

"A friend is coming to Greenwood today. She's going to be attending the college and all," Stiles told him, trying to hide the true extent of his excitement.

"Oh, a _she_ is it," Tommy teased.

"Yes, she's a coyote but we were planning for her to stay here, just for a while," Stiles said pushing bread into the toaster.

"Okay, so name? Where did you meet?" Tommy said as he carefully marked his page and put down his book.

"Her name is Malia and we met when my previous Pack and I helped her. She had been trapped in coyote form for eight years. Although we only spoke after we were both patients in a mental hospital," Stiles clenched his jaw as he realised what he had said but Tommy just nodded.

"Don't look like that, it isn't that unusual for a supernatural creature to go to an asylum," Stiles' friend snorted. Stiles was very grateful.

***

  It was raining. Stiles had left the warmth and shelter of his jeep, although Ide stayed. He left it because he was restless, the train would arrive soon and with it would be Malia. Now that the moment was there he couldn't seem to wait, not for a moment. He couldn't wait to see her smile, to hold her and feel her warmth, to run his hands through her hair.

  He knew that it was irrational, they had been together once in the basement of Eichen House, he had kissed her a few times. He hadn't seen her in eighteen months but in that time they had spoken and got to know each other well. He had spoken to her every night for a year and a half while his conversations with his father had dwindled. At first it had been twice a week, on the sheriff's insistence, but then it was once a week and then a fortnight, soon a month and by that time they hadn't spoken for three and a half months.

  It seemed an age before the train arrived with Stiles pacing back and forth in the rain. It drenched him, chilling him to the bone with little rivulets running down his face. He didn't notice it, but then the cold no longer effected him with the fire in his veins. 

  He watched as the passengers left the carriages, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Finally she stepped down onto the platform. The rain immediately fell upon her, Malia in a checkered shirt sporting a stylish bob. Stiles stopped still for the first time in hours and a smile split his face.

  Her blue eyes met his brown ones and she sped over to him, practically running, dragging her suitcase behind her. When she was close she seemed to forget about the suitcase altogether as she flung her arms around him. Her lips met his and for a brief moment Stiles flashed back to that night at Eichen House. It seemed a lifetime ago but every detail was fresh and clear.

  When she pulled back she was laughing, it was so infectious that Stiles couldn't help but join her. In that way they stood there, as people filtered out of the station and rain soaked through their layers. But they were lost in each other and non of their surrounding's registered.

  Eventually though, Stiles began to feel the water seeping through every fiber of his clothing and he pulled away. 

"Lets get back shall we?" He asked and she nodded.

  Stiles took the coyote's hand and led her to where Ide and the jeep waited. Stiles opened the passenger door and the great wolf inside sleepily raised her head. The Spark glanced back at his companion to see her transfixed. Admiration and curiosity shone in Malia's blue eyes and Stiles had to turn away to hide his smile.

"Malia, this is Ide," he introduced.

 


	12. The Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little on the lives of everyone in Greenwood and Beacon Hills before it goes downhill again.

Thomas had greeted them with smiles and a hand shake at the door. Malia had been obviously grateful for the friendly welcome. The tension that had been in her shoulders since they had left the jeep seemed to leave instantly.

  Tommy had given him the thumbs up as Malia had passed him through the doorway and both the young men had fallen into fits of laughter much to the coyote's bewilderment. Stiles had sobered quickly after that though as he gazed at the young woman and was struck at how lucky he was.

***

  Malia had obviously tried hard at Beacon Hills to catch up on her education, she was struggling a lot less than Stiles had expected. The way she was struggling with her work was pretty much normal for a student fresh into college life.

  The work wasn't proving too much though as the two would often ditch it and go down to the forest with Ide at night when the moon and the stars and the wolf were their only company.

  Ide would never go too far and she would often turn to look back at them, a picture of pure beauty and power. Her grey fur would almost shine when the moonlight hit it and her brown eyes were always bright and full of intelligence. Stiles loved it most when she howled. When she did he could feel her joy course through him. She howled even though there were no wolves to answer but simply because she was telling the world that she was happy.  She didn't need other wolves when she had Stiles.

  In the winter when the weather turned colder, when Malia had been in Greenwood for 4 months, she would tip her head back and her breath would fog up in the air. The snow around them made it seem as if she was one with the earth where the white of her fur mixed with the soft drifts.

 

***

  As well as the walks, Mitchell had taken a step down and had Stiles sharing his duties as Emissary. Malia had also been welcomed into the Borden Pack, John seemed more than happy and there was only one member that had seemed slightly disgruntled. Her name was Amelia, she was a golden eyed 30 odd year old wolf with a constant bad temper. Everyone avoided her and she only seemed to respect John as her alpha. So Malia had taken no personal offence, which Stiles would be eternally grateful for.

  As the Emissary, Stiles had had more contact with packs than he had ever had before. He had never realised that there was so many and it turned out that the McCall Pack was quite secluded. But then they didn't really have a proper Emissary, only Deaton, and a teen aged alpha.

  As well as that development, Malia had taken well to Sarah, who was officially dating Tommy. Very well. The 2 were best friends and would often hang away from the boys. It was another thing that warmed Stiles' heart. He had been the only one that she had connected with in Beacon Hills, and here she had 2 new friends and an alpha who was happy to have her. She smiled more regularly with them than she had in Beacon Hills and when she did her whole face lit up and those wondrously brown eyes twinkled. It was best when she laughed though, it was such a beautiful sound and Stiles often couldn't resist pulling her into a kiss when it happened.

  By that point in their,Stiles had full control of his elemental powers and was slowly gaining more and more tattoos. He found that he was increasingly fond of the ink that was spiraling across his skin. They helped anchor him when he delved into his magic, helped him to not get lost in the power. But on top of that, they looked cool. The ink that swirled over his skin gave it a mysterious and powerful look that Stiles loved.  Malia liked them as well, which was just an added bonus.

  The tattoos may not have been everyone's cup of tea though so at school he had taken to wearing long sleeves all of the time with high necked shirts. The teacher might not be to pleased with the amount of ink on his skin and the last thing he needed was to draw attention to himself.  Sarah and Tommy had left college together, both graduating with grades that would make anyone envious and so it was just himself and Malia left as everyone else in the Pack was older.

***

  Christmas was fast approaching in Beacon Hills and the cold seemed to have warded off all of the invading supernatural creatures. The basement was full of them and Scott was at a loss as to what to do. He was just incredibly grateful for the break.

  His mother sat him down with Liam, Lydia, Kira and Mason for dinner one night. And of course the Sheriff was there too. She had invited Derek as a courtesy but the sour wolf declined. Sour wolf. He was missing Stiles so much, especially now at Christmas when the snow was covering the ground and hanging heavy in the trees and he wasn't there to ambush him and start a snow ball fight. There hadn't been a word from his friend for almost 2 years since he disappeared. If he hadn't got together with Melissa McCall, Scott was certain that the Sheriff would have either turned to the bottle or wouldn't be around anymore. 

  The Sheriff was the only person in Beacon Hills to know what had happened to Stiles, and even then Scott was certain that the contact Stilinski had with his son was on and off. Malia too had seemed to know, she had gotten quite close to the number 24 lacrosse player before his unexplained departure and hadn't been surprised when she went missing to, she had always been distant from the Pack as it was. She  had been gone for the last 5 months so it was very likely that she had followed Stiles  to whatever corner of the Earth that he had gone to after she graduated.

  Scott just tried not to think about it too much. It hurt and he wanted a good holiday, make the most of not being in the middle of life and death situations all of the time. At the same time his brain, and that eternal optimist Derek, told him that it was all the calm before the storm.


	13. Inked Emissary

  Three years. That was how long it had been since Stiles had left Beacon Hills. He was nineteen with a permanent place in the Borden Pack, often taking over  jobs for Mitchell. He had continued to collect tattoos and by that stage in his life his whole upper body and arms were inked up. That was why the Pack and many others that interacted with them called him the Inked Emissary.

  He had a life that was so good, responsibilities and people that didn't doubt him. He had Malia and Tommy and Sara. They were the best things, he had never thought that he would have anything as strong as he and Scott had had but boy did he have something even stronger with his roommate, friend and girlfriend.

  After all of those years fighting the supernatural threats, both external and internal he had thought that he would never feel safe again. Especially after the Nogitsune, especially after having to hide so much from the people that he called friends just so that they would look at him. So that they wouldn't turn on him. Now with the Bordens he felt safe. He felt safe when he was with Ide, when he was with Malia. And when he was with Malia he felt like the luckiest person in the world.

  His responsibilities as emissary were amazing. Everything was amazing. He still couldn't quite get over how many Packs there were. How cut off the McCall Pack had been. He had known that the Hales had been in touch with other Packs, that Derek's mother had been a renowned full wolf. Peter obviously held onto some of that knowledge of the outside world but was too selfish to include others and Derek had been young when the fire had orphaned him. As for Scott, well he was a pretty awful alpha with no clue.

  That may have been the reason that Deaton made contact with the Bordens three years and two months into Stiles' life in Greenwood. The initial contact was through letter, something Stiles was ever so relieved about. But the letter... that was bad. It said that Beacon Hills had been under siege from supernatural creatures for the last three years and that the numbers were just increasing, the amount of hostile creatures becoming too much. 

  Three years. It was the time frame that concerned him the most. It was that which meant... that meant that Malia had known.

***

    Stiles strode purposefully into the apartment, into the living area where Malia, Tommy and Sarah sat laughing together. They stopped as soon as he entered though because his face was like thunder, green flames were flickering at his finger tips and by his side Ide was growling, hackles raised and teeth bared.

  "Stiles?" Malia asked nervously, feeling particularly cornered by the two sets of angry brown eyes fixed on her.

  "When were you going to tell me Malia?" Stiles practically snarled, all of the hurt inside of him morphing into anger.

  "Tell you what Stiles?" She said getting up from the sofa and taking a hesitant step forward as the two werewolves looked on.

  "That Beacon Hills was in danger. That my friends were in danger. That my dad, my only family was in danger!" Stiles yelled the last bit, feeling more out of control than he had in years.

  "Stiles, you need to calm down mate!" Tommy said in alarm as a swooshing noise filled the apartment. Stiles looked down to see water swirling up around his legs, drawn from his surroundings and curling around him through the air. He sucked in a deep breath, Tommy was right. Just calm down. He took another breath and as he let it out he let the water disperse back to where they had come from. Like that he had control again.

  "You mean the creatures don't you," Malia said and Stiles could see it, he knew her well enough to see the fear in her eyes. Something that she rarely felt and something that was even rarer to actually see." Can we go talk privately."

  "Go _and_ talk privately," Stiles  gave a smile with his jest, the aim working as it seemed to put her at ease."Sure."

  They walked silently to their room, the room that has originally just been Stiles', the one were he had used his powers to get rid of the Nogitsune what seemed like a lifetime ago. Now he shared it with her, had for a year and a half since she had moved away from Beacon Hills. Stiles opened the door to the semi-tidy room and Malia passed through, ducking her head slightly.

  "So why didn't you tell me?" he asked again but this time there was no anger, only sadness.

  "Because you were happy Stiles," Malia said looking directly at him," I didn't know you all to long before you left and with my people skills I couldn't really understand emotion. With you though Stiles... with you I could use more primitive senses, and I could sense that you were sad. You had this mask but that was all it was and Scott was hooked up in his own little world and Lydia- well you know I didn't like her, Isaac hated you and Allison was dead. You still had your problems and no one to listen because your dad and I didn't know what to do and no one else cared enough to see that you were hurting. 

  " So when you came here and we talked for all those hours, I knew that that pain was going away, slowly sure- _but it was going away_. I didn't want you to have to come back to Beacon Hills and all that pain again, here you have people that care and notice. You said yourself that Tommy noticed when something was up, that was when you barely knew each other. You've known Scott since you were what five, four? Can you see why I did it? I loved you even back then more than I had loved anyone else. I don't even think I fully understood what love was- all I knew was that _I could not let you get hurt_."

  Stiles stared at her while she spoke, her words chocking him up. He had never thought of his need for escape begin because no one cared, it had never crossed his mind. Even standing there he didn't want to contemplate it- one thing was clear though; Malia had cared. Every bit of resentment left him and he took those two strides forward to close the space between them and grip her in a tight hug.

  She returned the embrace with as much vigor as he gave it, both clinging on like it was all that was holding them together. And maybe it was.

  "I love you," Stiles whispered into her hair.

  "I love you too Stiles," she said in a shaky voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I hope you are enjoying this- please tell me what you think, I love your comments!


	14. Home Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The McCall Pack need the help of the much larger Pack in Greenwood. The Bordens come to their rescue.

It had gotten to a point where they had just had to count on Deaton for help, for him to stand in as their emissary.  
  There was just too many creatures and no one knew why they were actually arriving. Scott had a new, young member in his Pack now, Liam. He was constantly the cause of many sleepless nights, he was young, only a few years younger than him but still, had only just learnt control of his wolf and still had problems when it came to his anger. Plus he had years of supernatural experience on them and even he was struggling to cope as a true alpha. Then there was Kira, Scott had fallen hard for her and he didn't think that he could bare seeing her get hurt. And the rest of the Pack in general. Bar Peter maybe. He could look after himself anyway.

  Now though, Deaton had gotten in contact with a Pack in Greenwood. Their old emissary was meant to be wise and very learned in supernatural law, the new one... He was meant to be some kind of rare and powerful creature, humanoid but with powers. This emissary  had been tutored by the old one, said emissary having thought him capable enough to take over his role. It all boded well.

***

  They were all sat in Derek's loft. Lydia, Kira, Isaac, Derek, Peter, Liam, Chris, himself and Deaton. At that moment the lack of Stiles was so clear, so evident to Scott and again the guilt filled him, he had never really appreciated what he had with his best friend util it was gone. They sure could use that brain and creative thinking now.

  "The Bordens will be here sometime tomorrow, or so their emissary said," Deaton told the Pack. 

  "What is this emissary's name?" Isaac asked without much curiosity.

  "I don't know. No one does really. Don't know the name of the last one really. You see, when conversing with strange Packs, the emissary being a strange one, we are just known as the Pack's emissary. For instance I am "the McCall Emissary" and they are "the Borden emissary's"," Deaton calmly explained.

  "Okay but which one is _actually_ the emissary?" Kira asked, leaning forward in her seat.

  "The younger one. The previous emissary is still part of the Pack, a human influence- much like Stiles was in this Pack. Though more respected I dare say," Deaton said, staring pointedly at Isaac who lifted his hands in mock surrender.

  "I thought that a Pack only got a new emissary if something really bad happened or the emissary got too old," Lydia put in.

  "It is said that this emissary stepped down because he believed this emissary to be more capable. He, or she, is said to be a lot younger but possesses both powerful supernatural abilities and wisdom beyond their years. Packs across America, and perhaps the world, know this individual as the Inked Emissary on account of the tattoos that are meant to span his skin, aiding his powers," Deaton explained.

  "A good one to have on board then," Peter commented.

  "I have to agree with him for once. What do you think Scott?" Chris said begrudgingly.

  "I'd be pretty stupid to be against this. We might stand a chance with this problem, another Pack itself will be useful. The Borden's are supposed to be one of the biggest Packs in America," Scott told the rest, watching out of the corner of his eye as Deaton nodded.

***

  They were once more gathered in Derek's loft, the mismatched Pack of wolves, kitsune, banshee and humans, the Sheriff having come along for the meeting. Peter was perched on the stairs away from the rest, Isaac lounging on the sofa and the rest standing or pacing. Lydia was leaning against a pillar staring into space, Liam was standing off to one side, tension clear in every line of his body and Derek was leaning against the table, arms folded and glower firmly in place. Kira and Scott were leaning against a pillar of their own, Scott's arm wrapped around the other who was lost in her own thoughts, not unlike the banshee. Deaton stood by the window looking down, calmly waiting while Chris crouched on the other side of the room by the huge doors polishing his gun. The Sheriff just sat on on of the dinning chairs looking lost. There had been something up with him ever since Deaton had said that the Pack would be coming from Greenwood, Scott just didn't know what.

  Tension. Everyone in the room bar Peter and Deaton were showing the tension. Isaac was good at hiding it, something that came with his particular upbringing, but Scott knew him well enough now to know the signs. He would be a terrible alpha otherwise. Deaton was always calm and collected, cool on the outside but allowing no insight into what went on beneath the surface. Peter just didn't give a crap about anyone other than himself.

  Along with the tension came silence. No one spoke for a full half hour, maybe more, as they waited. It was as if a veil had been put over the room, freezing all life, making it dormant. The next sound came from Deaton who had been standing watchfully all of that time.

  "They are here, I shall go down and greet them," he said calmly before turning and striding purposefully across the room. He grabbed the handles of the door and pulled them apart, moving through them and with a rumbling clank, closing them behind him.

***

  Derek was pacing up and down not a minute after the vet had left the room. Every single gaze was focused on him as they waited for the Pack that would hopefully save them.

  It was maybe five minutes, maybe ten before the door reopened. Through it came Deaton and a middle aged man in a leather jacket. Despite the seriousness of the situation, his face held a brightness, a jovial quality that was born of years of positive attitude. In short it was the kind of face that made you instantly like the person. The scar though. It was long, from his hairline to his mouth, disfiguring the whole thing but in a way that made the goodness even more noticeable. Scott felt a weight lift off of his shoulders in a moment.

  After the man, who he assumed to be the alpha, came about twenty people, more wolves in one place than Scott had ever seen. Towards the back there was something that made the whole McCall Pack stare open mouthed. There trotted a grey wolf with strikingly familiar eyes. Four people entered alongside this wolf, a young blond male and a woman around his age with long brown hair. Beside them was two _very_ familiar faces. Those faces belonged to Malia and Stiles. Stiles had returned to Beacon Hills.

   Stiles looked up nervously and locked eyes with Scott. It seemed that as soon as that contact was made the returning friend relaxed. The Beacon Hills alpha gave his old friend a look over, Stiles looked older, a lot older than three years should give but he was... he looked healthier. There was no bags beneath his eyes, the pinch to his features that had been there before had gone but his eyes... they held something new. They and the way Stiles held himself gave away immediately to Scott that this wasn't the same person that had disappeared all those years ago.

  


	15. Stiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discussions between Stiles and the McCall pack.

  "Stiles?" Lydia breathed. They were all staring at him and he suddenly felt that coming back was a really, _really_ bad idea. 

  Because everyone in the McCall Pack was staring the Borden Pack started staring even though they knew that Stiles had a history with the supernatural side of Beacon Hills.

  "I think that we can wait by the cars, looks like you can do with a bit of alone time," John said gesturing between the McCalls and Stiles.

  He didn't wait for a reply, simply turned and left the room again, giving Stiles' shoulder a brief squeeze as he passed. Non of the other Pack members questioned their alpha, all filling out silently. Tommy and Sara left last, Tommy looking between Scott and Stiles nervously before Sara pulled him out and pulled the door shut again leaving Stiles, Malia and Ide alone with the Beacon Hills Pack.

  "You've been in Greenwood this whole time?" Scott asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

  "Yeah," Stiles replied lamely.

  Ide was obviously feeling the discomfort in her Spark acutely, returning to Stiles' side from where she had been standing a few feet away. She lay down on his feet, crossing her paws and looking up curiously at the true alpha. The movement, and obvious affection for Stiles drew questioning gazes, Stiles glancing down at the familiar but offered no explanation.

  The silence stretched on for a long time, the tension building in Stiles' chest fit to burst, making Ide whine. Malia, who had long ago picked up on the signs of the wolf's bond to Stiles, placed a comforting hand on the small of his back.

  Eventually it was the Sheriff that moved. He got up from where he was sat and made his way over to his son until he stood a couple of feet away, looking down nervously at Ide. The she-wolf looked back up at him and slowly raised herself from the floor, never breaking eye contact. She made her way over to where the Sheriff stood stiffly and sniffed at his hand.

  "She won't hurt you dad," Stiles said quietly.

  "Why does it have your eyes Stiles?" John Stilinski asked shakily, the question catching Deaton's attention immediately. 

  "The wolf is your familiar, is it not?" the vet queried.

  Stiles, Malia and Ide all looked up at the McCall emissary simultaneously, nervous uncertainty clearly written on Stiles and Malia's faces. Stiles swallowed and silently nodded.

  "What's a familiar?" Kira asked.

  "A creature of magic, part of the soul of one with very powerful magic. Only warlocks and other even rarer magic holders have them," Deaton told the room.

  "Like Sparks," Stiles suggested.

  "You're a Spark?" Deaton asked and it was probably the first time ever that Stiles had seen his calm mask slip.

  "I am going to have to ask what the hell a Spark is," Isaac said from the back of the room.

  "They are elementals. Can harness elemental powers and are incredibly rare," Peter told them leaning on the railing of the stairs and gaining a few curious glances at the bit of information.

  "Is it why you left?" Lydia asked.

  "Partly," Stiles admitted, glancing at his dad rather than the banshee.

  The Sheriff glanced down at Ide, who was sitting calmly near his feet, and then back at his son. Before Stiles could register what was happening he was being wrapped in a bear hug, one that was so familiar and that he hadn't had in such a long while. He automatically hugged his dad back, wrapping his arms around him and giving a sight squeeze before the older man whispered in his ear," you could have told me, we could have worked something out," before pulling away.

  It was as if that hug had initiated a whole hug fest. Scott came forward next and gave him a strong werewolf hug, then Lydia and even Kira. Chris clapped him on the back and Peter gave him a predatory smile while Derek's lips quirked upwards slightly in what could be passed as a Sour wolf smile. Isaac didn't make a move at all, his scowl firmly in place and Stiles couldn't help but remember the last time he had seen the beta. Lastly there was a younger guy that came up and nervously shook his hand.

  "Hey, I'm Liam," he said looking shyly at Scott.

  "He's one of my betas," Scott said.

  "I've got to ask you Sheriff, did you know about your son's powers, because you knew where he was," Chris said, turning to Stiles' father.

  "No he didn't," Stiles answered for him," we... haven't spoken in a while."

  "Why?" Kira asked.

  "Just life getting in the way. It has been a busy three years," Stiles told them.

  "Have you got a job son?" Stilinski asked.

  "Deputy at the police station and emissary for the Pack," Stiles said, rushing the the last part a bit.

  "Your the Inked Emissary? Well it figures with you being a Spark and all," Peter smirked.

  "I really, really didn't take you for liking needles Stiles," Lydia commented. 

  "Yeah well, the tattoos help with my powers," the Spark to them.

  "What kind of Spark are you Stiles, or do you know?" Deaton asked softly.

  "Adversus." 

  Peter whistled in appreciation, causing yet more confused looks to be thrown around the room. Stiles didn't mind though, this was so much less awkward than he predicted.

  "Earth and air or fire and water?" Peter pressed.

  "Fire and water."

  "I'm sorry but what's an Adverwhatsit Spark?" Scott asked.

  "There are three types of Spark that control different elements. Elemetum sparks control a single element, they are the most common Sparks, baring in mind that Sparks themselves are nearly non existent. Quam are next on the rarity chart, controlling two elements and finally Adversus. These control opposing elements which is much more of a harder task, creating much more raw energy and making them so much stronger than other Sparks," Deaton explained calmly.

  "The rarest of the rare," Peter said, hopping down off of the stairs and walking over to stand in front on Stiles. He stared straight at him and Stiles stared back , refusing to to break eye contact.

  "This is going to be fun," the blue-eyed beta grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your support, I hope that you will continue to enjoy this and right more lovely comments!


	16. Nemeton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Nogitsune wasn't as much in the past as Stiles thought

  Thomas, Sarah, Malia and Stiles were sat flush against each other on the sofa as the McCall Pack and the Bordens got acquainted. Once the introductions were done John, Scott and Deaton stood before the floor to ceiling window ready to address the two Packs.

  Scott, and indeed the rest of the McCall Pack, kept glancing at Stiles, his familiar and the two wolves beside him. The Spark had gone and sat amidst a load of Borden's with Malia and a wolf in his late twenties, called Leo, on one  side and his two new friends on the other.

  "So, we have been having these attacks from other supernatural creatures these past few years. They have slowly been getting more frequent and so we have reached out to you for help," Deaton said to the Bordens.

  The wolves, because the only non-werewolves in the Borden Pack were Mitchell, Stiles and Malia, were all piled into the room. They were leaning against pillars, sat on the few chairs present or crossed legged on the floor, either leaning against some piece of furniture or another from the Pack. Stiles was glad that they were there, he was close to them all after so many years- although still closest to Tommy, Malia and Sarah.

  "We have no idea why this has started and we had heard that you and your emissary- or emissaries?- were knowledgeable about the rarer supernatural creatures and occurrences," Scott said.

  At that moment a piercing pain split through Stiles skull. So used hiding sudden pain after all the time with the Nogitsune, the only outward sign he showed was a sharp intake of breath. It wasn't lost on Malia or Tommy who were closest- it didn't help that Ide had let out a small whine, feeling the same pain that Stiles had.

  Malia squeezed his hand, which she had already been holding, and moved closer into his side- which he hadn't thought was possible.

  "What's wrong?" she whispered into his ear.

  "Nothing, don't worry about me," he said, turning his head slightly to whisper in her ear before pressing his lips gently to her temple.

  When he turned back, he saw both Isaac and Lydia had seen the exchange, their gazes briefly meeting before he looked back at the alphas and the emissary. That was when he saw him. The Nogitsune. Stiles was semi-aware that he must have shown a visible reaction to this because both Malia and Tommy were whispering his name. He didn't respond though because the dark kitsune was moving towards him, he walked right between Deaton and Scott who were oblivious of its evil presence- continuing to describe the attacks to the Greenwood wolves.

  It moved forward jerkily, past Borden wolves, so close to Lydia that it could have reached out to touch her, and stopped a foot away from Stiles. The Spark's attention was focused fully on the subject of so many nightmares while the still rational part, small as it was, was grateful for the fact that no one seemed to have noticed anything was up. Except for Malia, Tommy... Lydia and Isaac.

  "It's all because of the Nemeton Ssstiles," the Nogitsune hissed.

  A cackle escaped between the twisted, inhuman teeth and then he was gone.

  With the departure of the creature Stiles found he could breath again. He let out a long breath, feeling very light headed.

  "Stiles?" Malia whispered urgently.

  "I'm fine, promise," Stiles whispered back, offering her and Tommy a smile.

  He turned back to the front yet again, ignoring the worried looks from the banshee across the room.

  _It's all because of the Nemeton_

***

  There was enough room in Derek's apartment block to house the entire Borden Pack. So that was where they were.

  After awkward, _incredibly_ awkward, goodbyes from the McCall Pack, Stiles and Malia retired to a room that they had been designated. 

  "So, about earlier?" Malia said as Stiles slumped down onto the bed.

  "I was just stressed, people kept looking at me like I was... some ghost. It just got to me," he lied. He hated lying to her but he might have been telling the truth, it might have been an apparition brought on by stress.

  They got ready for the night, brushing teeth and pulling on pajamas before falling bed. Stiles was feeling irrationally cold and was so grateful for the shared body warmth and Malia wrapped herself around him.  Ide crawled up onto the bed to form a furry water bottle at their feet.

  "You need to make sure you are okay. I don't want to see you hurt," Malia breathed into his neck.

  "I'll be okay, I promise you," Stiles murmured.

  "I love you Stiles."

  "I love you to Malia, so much."

***

  He didn't remember dreaming. Nothing. It was strange, for most people it was normal but for Stiles, ever since he had unlocked his powers, he had dreamed. That night there was nothing.

  Despite the lack of dreams, Stiles woke with a perpetual sense of terror. That was when he realised that he wasn't in bed. That Malia wasn't there. Ide uncurled with a distressed whine, as confused as he was as to where they were. Her gaze met his, the companionship calming them both.

  They both then looked around them. A forest. Not there forest. Not the forest where Ide came into being. But he knew it.

  His hands curled in the bed of leaves beneath him and shivered as the cold bit at his bare arms and through the thin material of his night clothes. There was a cold breeze and the leaves were damp, the moister soaking through his clothes, only helping to drop his body temperature further.

  Stiles pulled at the power inside of him and sent fire coursing though his veins, warming him instantly. Little green flames flickered at odd points on his skin, singeing the leaves around him but leaving his clothes unharmed at his will. 

  It was then that he pulled himself to his up. His bare feet sank slightly into the dead foliage and damp dirt but he just stood there. Ide to had gotten on her feet, pressing herself into Stiles' leg as they both stared ahead of them. The whole thing felt to real to be a dream, the damp, the cold, the feel of Ide's fur against him. 

  But there it was. No longer a stump. The branches twisted and spread out for a huge trunk. The leaves let the moonlight dapple through them onto the ground below. It was stunning and the power... it was drawing him in. Drawing him in.... 

  That was why there was so many creatures, they were being drawn to Beacon Hills.

_It's all because of the Nemeton._


	17. Not Just a Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Nogitsune never left.

Malia woke to the sound of rain on the window. Heavy rain. She moaned and stretched before realising that she was alone in bed, had been for hours if the absence of warmth on Stiles' side was anything to go by. She moaned again and pressed the heels of her hand into her eyes. She hoped that Stiles was still in the building, that he hadn't gone for a walk in such abysmal weather. Which was usually where he went when he had nightmares. And she could practically _smell_ fear in the room.

  She looked over at the clock on the bedside table. It was half eight in the morning. Two hours past when she normally got up. About time she did then.

  She rolled to her feet and padded across the floor to the joining bathroom. There she splashed cold water on her face before looking at her reflection in the mirror. She studied the girl, the young woman before her, feeling the water glide down her face, hearing it drip onto the ceramic of the sink. Despite being a human for four and a half years, it was strange. She had been a coyote for longer in human years and way longer in coyote years. Now she had Stiles. How did she get him? How was she so lucky? The guy had been through a lot, too much for him to trust people fully. But he trusted her. He had told her so, and she had told him she trusted him. Rare for her as well.

  She didn't want him hurt. It was the last thing she wanted. Maybe it was the coyote in her wanting to protect what was hers, she still wasn't fully in tune with human emotions but she had a good enough grasp on them by now to know that every time she told her boyfriend she loved him she meant it. She could also see it in his eyes. He loved her back. How was she so lucky?

  She left the bathroom hastily after brushing her teeth, she needed to make sure that Stiles was okay.

  Once dressed she tumbled out of their living quarters into the hallway. She knew Derek's apartment building well enough to traverse it at high speed- and that's what she planned to do. She sped around the corner and crashed right into someone. A human smelling someone. Hastily she took a step back before realising just who she had knocked into. The long hair, streaked with more grey than it had been when they first met, was up in the customary ponytail behind his head, tweed jacket present, this one grey. Those dark eyes were filled with a warmth that was a long time in earning.

  "I thought you weren't meant to be coming," Malia said in way of greeting.

  "Well, I know that he is in your very capable hands, but I thought that Stiles may want all the support he can get. Plus I wasn't really enjoying the holiday, they aren't really my thing," Mitchell smiled, one of those smiles that really warmed his whole face, the kind that only the people he really trusted and liked got. Trust. Such a precious thing these days.

  "Okay, it'll be cool to have you around. Do you know where Stiles is?" Malia asked.

  "No Malia, I presumed he was with you," was the reply.

  "Oh well, we might as well go check the loft then."

***

  All heads turned as Malia and Mitchell entered. In the room the entire McCall Pack was present, including Deaton, Melissa McCall and the Sheriff. The Sheriff and Scott's mum were sat together on the sofa, so definitely a thing. The random stuff that popped into her head! Amelia, John's second, Tommy, Sarah and John himself were also there.

  "Who's that?" Scott asked, pulling Malia's attention to him.

  "Mitchell!" John answered enthusiastically, moving towards the human.

  "The previous Borden emissary," Mitchell supplied with his usual reserved smile.

  "You weren't here yesterday," Scott stated, earning him eye rolls from his mother and Lydia.

  "I was indisposed," Mitchell told them.

  "A man of mystery," John chuckled, clapping his friend on the back.

  "Your the one that trained Stiles. That must have been quite something," Deaton commented.

  "Indeed it was," the smile was real that time. 

***

  They had waited for hours. No one knew where Stiles was and he was the one with the best luck at finding out what the hell was going down here. And so Scott was pacing. A lot. There didn't seem to be much other movement in the room, Lydia had her head in a book, Deaton was staring out of the window at the continued rain. Derek was a statue, Peter was no where to be seen, Isaac had long since gotten bored and left. John and Mitchell were whispering quietly to each other in the corner, that female wolf from the Borden's had disappeared, Scott's mum and the Sheriff were sat silently together on the sofa.  Kira was leaning against a pillar staring at the floor. Chris was cleaning his guns- big surprise.

  He looked over at Malia next. The werecoyote that they had helped escape coyote form. She had known where Stiles was in those eighteen months before she too had disappeared, off to be with the sarcastic number 24 lacrosse player. She had always kept her head down, especially when the topic of Scott's best friend came up- no wonder. Now there she was, eighteen months later sat cross legged on the floor along side the two wolves that she had first walked in with. The same two that where Stiles' friends. Stiles and that young man seemed close and Stiles had only met the new guy the fay before. He felt what was unmistakably jealousy when they were together. Stiles had left him alone in this mess and gone and got a load of new buddies. He had barely looked at Scott the evening before.

  Scott's gaze snapped away from the trio when the distinct scrape of the door sliding open cut through the silence. There in the door way stood Stiles, the she-wolf at his side. The young man turned briefly to pull the heavy door shut before turning again to face them. 

  Scott looked him up and down, he knew that if Stiles was the Inked Emissary then he would have tattoos but it was one thing hearing and another seeing. The guy was still wearing his pajamas, they were soaked, sticking to his skin and showing off distinct muscles. His hair was plastered to his head, his feet bare and red looking. But the tattoos... He knew that everyone present from his Pack was staring. Could feel it even before he glanced back to confirm it. The ink though... It was covering the entirety of his arms, disappearing under his clothing- giving them only a small sight of the whole thing. Intricate patterns and runes. That was what they were, things to help with his powers.

  "Um guys," Stiles started, a slight flush, probably from the staring, had crept up his neck," I know why all these creatures have been attacking Beacon Hills."

***

  They were all staring at him, particularly his arms. It was unnerving and he couldn't quite comprehend it until he looked down and found himself still in his night clothes. Oh yeah...

  "Um guys, I know why all these creatures have been attacking Beacon Hills," Stiles told the room.

  There was silence for a long time, all eyes focuses solely on him until he felt himself squirming under their scrutiny. 

  "Stiles you're soaked," Lydia said eventually in a hoarse voice.

  "What?" Stiles asked dully before looking down again and finding that his clothes were indeed sticking to him. In his defense water was one of his elements, it didn't bother him.

  "Oh yeah," he said sheepishly.

  It was without thinking that he waved a hand over himself. The gesture was casual, came so naturally only one of the runes on his skin glowed green as he dispelled the water into the atmosphere leaving him bone dry. 

  "Oh my God!" Kira breathed and it was only then that he realised what he had done.

  "Sorry," he mumbled, feeling the blush deepen considerably.

  "No need to apologies Stiles. They will get used to it. Now, about this revaluation of yours?" Mitchell said stepping forward.

  Stiles started to smile," Mitch-" before he jumped out of his skin.

  There had been a hot, stinking breath on the back of his neck then that nightmarish voice," I wouldn't Ssstiles, you'll spoil all the fun."

  "Stiles?" Someone said his name but he didn't know who, his whole world was fixated on the creature before him. The inhuman mouth gaping as that... as that chuckle, that gleeful sound that came with the sight of distress,  was filling oozing out.

  He became aware of Ide pressed at his side, hackles raised and growl rumbling in her throat. He reached down and buried his hand in her thick fur, using her as an anchor to reality. This was definitely not stress educed. 

  "Stiles," someone said again, this time a hand reaching out to grab him.

  The Spark twisted around in alarm as at the same time the person reeled back in pain. It was Scott, he was holding a badly burnt hand, curtsy of the green flames that had burst from Stiles' skin at the unexpected contact.

  "You can't see him can you?" Stiles asked weakly.

  "See who?"the Sheriff asked, alarm written into every feature.

  "I remember that look," Tommy said from behind the gathered McCall Pack," I thought you got rid of it."

  "You nnnever got rid of me Ssstiles," the Nogitsune cackled," I was always there, just banished from your conscious mind. All those delectable nightmaresss... That was _really_ me!"

  "I guess- I guess not," Stiles swallowed, unable to take his eyes off of the bandaged face.

  "Get rid of what Stiles?" Scott asked, Stiles could hear the panic in his voice as he massaged his hand.

  "I'm sorry about your hand, I normally have better control," Stiles mumbled.

  "What is standing their Stiles?" Chris asked.

  "As in now," Derek threatened.

  "The Nogitsune," Malia supplied for her boyfriend.

  "What? But how would he know?" Stilinski accused pointing at Tommy," we got rid of it way before you left."

  "No we didn't. It was one reason I left. The Spark thing another. Al- Allison another," he told them, still not taking his eyes off if the dark kitsune. He hadn't said her name since he left. Hadn't told anyone in Greenwood about her.

  "Why didn't you say something?" Melissa asked.

  "Many reasons," Stiles said quietly.

  "Why didn't you say anything about him still being with you?" was John's question.

  "Because I thought it was only nightmares," Stiles confessed.

  "Foolish," the Nogitsune leered," I thought you were meant to be clever Stiles."

  "Shut up!" Stiles yelled before he could stop himself.

  He was vaguely aware of the alarmed glances from those around him but he could feel the panic building. His breath and heart rate quickening, all the feelings of an oncoming panic attack.  Ide could feel it to, her growl intensifying before she lept at the creature without warning. It hissed in anger and pain as the familiar knocked him backwards, sinking her teeth into its arm. Stiles could almost taste the sand and dirt that she could before the Nogitsune shook her off and raked his claw-like nails down her side.

  Blood immediately began to soak the she-wolf's fur and she howled in pain. At the same time as the claws pierced her  side, Stiles was forced to grab his own side, his own crimson blood spilling between his fingers. Ide was about to launch herself at the thing again but Stiles could feel her weakness through their bond, through his own weakness. The cuts were deep, more like gashes.

  "Ide!" Stiles called out in alarm. The wolf swerved away from her attack even as the Nogitsune braced itself. Instead, Ide made a retreat back to Stiles' side, a feral snarl curling her lips all the way.

  "Jesus," Stiles heard his dad curse behind him and he turned to see that everyone was staring at his nightmare, everyone could see the Nogitsune now.

  "That's part of our problem," Stiles said, voice weak from blood loss and the narrow evasion of a panic attack. He pointed a shaking finger straight at the snarling monster.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit longer than my usual ones but there you go. Just hope you enjoyed it.


	18. Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And they are off to see the Nemeton

"Okay, Stiles you are bleeding bad," Lydia said behind him, ever the voice of reason.

  Stiles looked down at his hand, the blood slowly trickling between his fingers and over them to drip to the floor. Then he looked at Ide at his feet, crouched down, patch of fur matted with blood. It hurt. A lot.

  The Spark knew that he was too weak to heal his familiar and Ide separately but he was loathe to join in front of so many people. Only Tommy, Sarah, Mitchell and Malia had ever seen it. Not even John. It was something that showed his full power. When he joined with the she-wolf, her form could be seen like a green ghost wrapped around him, not unlike a kitsune fox spirit. His eyes also turned green, every rune on his body would also glow with the colour of his magic. 

  But he had to, they were so much stronger together. So he did.

  He reached out and Ide stood, they looked into each other's eyes and Stiles placed his hand on the top of the wolf's head. She dissolved into the leaf-green sparks and their bonded appearance took effect, obvious by the gasps and intakes of breath.

  He held out his hands, the magic in his veins washing away all self-consciousness as he let green flames lick up the entirety of his body, closing the wound easily. He then looked over at the Nogitsune it seemed... afraid. That was a first. He felt a growl from Ide rumble through his body, leaving through his mouth- the only physical one in the pair at that time.

  Remembering the banishing he had preformed calmed the anger the seeped through him. The adrenaline, from letting all of his magic to the surface, building instead. Ide and Stiles cocked their heads slightly, ghostly wolf and Spark simultaneously watching the dark spirit.

  They then built and focused their joined power. It surged down to Stiles' hand which he waved before him as if swatting a fly. In a way he was. The Nogitsune was torn away in a gust of black smoke leaving no sign that it had ever stood there.

  The rush magic pulled Stiles and his familiar apart. The she-wolf's claws skittered on the floor as she reformed and had the brief struggle to regain balance, Stiles himself stumbled a bit. They had never used so much magic in one go, never preformed something do powerful, something considered a challenge with words. They were beyond that now though.

  Stiles turned to his friends to see all of them gobsmacked and Mitchell looking like a proud father.

 "I think that we should go see the other part of the problem. The main part," Stiles said, the buzz of the magic in his blood fading and leaving room for the embarrassment to reassert itself," I'd like to get dressed first though.

  His blush was very obvious, he knew it.

***

  After Stiles had showered and changed they had got straight to business. Stiles, Malia and the Sheriff got into Stiles' jeep, John, Sarah, Tommy and Mitchell got into John's car while Scott and Kira took Scott's motorcycle and Chris took his car with Liam and Melissa.

  Stiles led the little convoy, partly using the memory of the night before but mostly the pull to guide him. Ide was restless in the back of the jeep, showing how Stiles felt internally through her continuous wriggling. The pull from the Nemeton had been so strong before, it had taken every ounce of his will power to turn away from that power. He knew that the pull affected different creatures in a variety of ways he also knew that it was almost impossible for creatures of magic like the Sparks and Warlocks to resist the pull. He could feel it as he drive towards it, something in his chest, a tight sensation that eased the nearer he got, that easing becoming slowly more and more addictive.

***

  They pulled up on the side of the road closest to the clearing. Stiles could feel the power as an insistent presence in his mind and knew that the proximity was starting to effect the wolves as well.

  They all started to make their way through the undergrowth, sticks snapping under foot, leaves crunching and brambles grabbing at clothing. Ide lead the way, weaving in and out of the flora with the grace of the wild animal of which form she taken. This close her grey fur was rippling with green sparks, as it had been when they had woken up. The pull... Stiles couldn't bare it, it took every bit of his control to not start running towards the source of his want.

  They finally reached the clearing and there it stood. The great tree took all of their breath away, the twisting branches reaching out and dragging across the ground, the trunk thicker than any other tree that stood. Despite its majestic appearance, it was the aura and the history that did it. The Nemeton should be a stump, a disk of wood big enough to comfortably seat four men.

  Stiles, having seen it once before that day, broke out of his revelry before anyone else and took another step closer. He could feel the power emanating from the tree with even more intensity now that he was fully awake. He wanted to take another step, and another. He wanted, no _needed_ , to reach out and touch the trunk, feel the bark and tap into some of that power.

  "Stiles? What are you doing?" Mitchell asked behind him.

  "This is definitely the reason that so many creatures are being pulled to Beacon Hills," Stiles said as a reply, not really answering the question but not really caring as a haze settled over him.

  He continued walking, Ide at his side, the world seeming to dissolve, his friends no longer mattering. As he got closer he was able to put a hand out and run his fingers through the leaves. The initial contact sent shivers down his spine. Then he reached the trunk and stopped, hesitating for the smallest moment. The moment passed and he lay his palm flat against the rough trunk of the Nemeton, a full body shudder taking hold. He was aware that the world started to look more green as he felt all of that power flood through him. It wasn't enough though, he needed to be closer.

  Stiles looked down at Ide, her fur wasn't grey anymore but green, almost translucent. Their gazes met, they wanted the same thing. A whine rose in the familiar's throat and Stiles felt the need so badly. He shut his eyes and tilted his head back. The Spark felt his familiar leave and he followed her, through the trails of power.

 


	19. Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter filling in Stiles' disappearance from the eyes of everyone else.

Malia took in the sight of the Nemeton with pure, un-disputable awe. The thing emanated power, she could feel it thrumming through her body. On top of that, it was the biggest, most ancient tree the coyote had ever set her eyes on- and that was saying something as she had spent a large part of her life living in a forest.

  She, along with everyone else seemed to be in a daze. That is until Stiles stepped forward. He had been standing slightly closer to the great tree than anyone else as he had led them into the clearing. Ide was pressed close to his side as he took steady steps forward. Everyone in the clearing was focused on him, Malia taking a small step forward herself as her boyfriend moved further away.

  When he reached the tree he reached his fingers out to brush through the leaves. There was almost a collective gasp as it appeared that the whole tree trembled, a smooth rustle as every leaf twitched as if kissed by a nonexistent breeze. Then she looked back at the young man and the wolf only to suck in a shocked breath once more. Where Stiles had touched the tree his fingers and then his hand, his arm and then his torso, became green and translucent as if he wasn't truly there like a ghost. Malia's nervous gaze flicked to Ide, the familiar in a similar state to her Spark, and then at the two of them as sparks of magic danced and lept around them like jumping jacks. 

  The coyote looked around at everyone else, the gaping mouths and wide eyes. They seemed as dumb struck as she was- even Mitchell.

  "Stiles!" she called but he didn't seem to hear her, either that or he was ignoring her.

  The two reached the trunk then, Stiles' hand hovering centimeters away from the bark before a small whine was heard and he placed his splayed fingers on the tree. There was a deep rumble within the earth, the Nemeton at it's epicenter. Then there was a breeze, an actual breeze, that drifted through the clearing. It played with Malia's hair, dropping some into her face as she watched Stiles in horror. 

  Ide went first the breeze blew her apart into thousands of sparks of magic drifting on the breeze. Then Stiles followed suit, the magic that had been the Spark and familiar swirling and mixing midair until the wind, and the sparks along with it, were whipped down into the ground around the Nemeton as if sucked in by the tree's giant roots.


	20. The Heart of Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Stiles went

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a longer chapter to make up for the last.

At first it was dark, so so dark. It was darker than anything or anywhere that Stiles had seen and he'd be lying if he didn't say he was scared. It seemed as though every drop of light had been squeezed out of... out of where ever he was. Because he didn't know where he was. And he didn't know where Ide was either...

  Ever since the she-wolf had formed as his familiar those years ago he could feel her presence like a comforting hand in the back of his mind, he always knew where she was, when she had gone hunting or if she was in the next room. Now he felt nothing. He had no idea.

  The Spark could feel the panic building in his chest and tried to breath, it had been so long since it had felt so tight. He slumped down, legs weak, and pulled his knees to his chest. The ground was leaves? No hard packed dirt? Tarmac? It seemed to be all of those things and nothing at once and Stiles was terrified. And where was Ide? 

  His breathing was coming in short sharp gasps, he had been pulled to the power of the tree, it had been irresistible. Now where was he? He couldn't see anything, it was impossible- _there was no light!_

  He felt it then, felt it before he heard anything. Hot, sickly breath on the back of his neck making his hair stand on end.

  "It's just you and me now Ssstiles," the gleeful voice whispered in his ears.

  Stiles jumped up with a shout of fear. It was as if the movement had triggered something because immediately the was light. The Nogitsune rose from where it had been crouched, standing before him, slightly hunched, arms out slightly from its sides and twisted, inhuman teeth on display in a victorious grin.

  All around them was green sparks, dancing and whirling. They looked like Stiles' magic but the movement was much more viscous and wild than the usual gentle swaying and drifting. He tried to look beyond the green glow but all he saw was the darkness- and definitely no Ide. It was just him and the Nogitsune.

  The light had seemed to have released some of the tension in Stiles, the panic had receded to a dull throb of fear as he looked at the malevolent fox spirit.

  "Where are we?" Stiles asked in a hoarse whisper. Perhaps more a whimper.

  "We are in the heart of magic. You touched it. The tree. But it's not a tree, you know that Ssstiles, clever boy that you are," the Nogitsune hissed joyfully.

  "The heart of magic," Stiles repeated to himself.

  He looked around again and saw a door. It hadn't been there before. Definitely not been there before, and yet there it was. It wasn't attached to a wall or anything, it just stood there alone. It looked like a hospital door, green light oozing through the gap between the door and the frame.

  "What are you waiting for Ssstiles? The door and possible escape, or me? 'Cause it doesn't want to let you go Stiles, it wantsss you. You and your magic. You power. So much, ssso scrumptious. Make it even more powerful," the dark fox whispered, standing close behind the Spark. So close that the slightest movement on Stiles' part would have him touching the creature.

  After the little speech, the warm breath on his neck and the hyper-awareness of the Nogitsune's proximity, Stiles knew he had no choice. The Nemeton was meant to be a protector of Beacon Hills anyway. It couldn't be too bad. Maybe he would out find why it was attracting so many creatures when it never had before.

  Stiles reached the door and pulled it open, quickly stepping through. The door shut behind him and he looked around him- no Nogitsune thank God. Then he realised where he was. He was in a room in the hospital in Beacon Hills, two people other than himself occupied the from himself. Two every familiar people.

  "Mum? Dad?" he asked quietly.

  Neither seemed to have heard him, the Sheriff didn't turn from where he was sat beside his wife's bed, holding her thin, pale hand.  Stiles knew when this was, he remembered the gauntness in his mother's features and the desperation on his dad's face. He couldn't be here, he couldn't watch this, see this again. He couldn't watch his mother fade away and his father's happiness with it.

  He turned then and grabbed the handle of the door, go back, calm down, prepare himself and then go back. He pushed through the door before gathering himself, looking around with an open mouth. This was not the dark place, and there was no Nogitsune.

  Stiles was standing in the woods behind Beacon Hills, it was dark but the night was mild. There were trees towering up all around him,a thick bed of pine needles at his feet. Why did this all feel so familiar? They weren't at the Nemeton and Stiles still couldn't sense Ide so he couldn't have escaped. Why did he feel the hairs stand up on the back of his neck?

  It was then that he heard the growling, deep and rumbling. Fear spiked through him at the same time as confusion. The growling... he recognized it.  At that moment a creature crept from the shadows and Stiles knew straight away who it was. 

  Peter's red eyes glowed and the growl that rumbled up and spilt through his fangs was the sound that had haunted many of his dreams for months after he had first met the wolf. This wasn't how they had met though. The alpha didn't even seem to have any knowledge of Stiles' presence 

  Scott came running then, a saggy haired, younger version of Scott. He was weazing and panting. Like he needed his inhaler? Suddenly, Peter lept at Scott, before Stiles could move out of the way, and subsequently lept through the Spark as if he was an insubstantial like a ghost. The confusion that set in Stiles made him miss the exact events, all he knew was Peter lept at Scott before galloping of back into the darkness between the tree trunks leaving Scott was a deep bite mark.

  As his best friend lifted up his hoody, exposing the bleeding flesh, Stiles felt quite queezy. Despite everything he still couldn't handle blood. But he could heal it, he could stop Scott becoming a werewolf, stop his friend's life from being messed up so thoroughly. He stepped forward and reached out a hand to touch the wound, ready to wash his magic through the not-yet-werewolf. His hand never made contact though, it passed straight through Scott's body.

  Scott flickered before him, still not seeing Stiles he burst into green sparks. As the magical glow cleared, Stiles found himself to be stood in his own house not the woods. There he was, younger him, and his dad at the table. Notes were laid out all over it and his younger self was pouring his dad a glass of whiskey... He remembered it so clearly, the guilt that he had felt even as completing the action welled up in him as he was forced to relive it. Bile rose in his throat as he watched himself exploit his dad's drinking problem to get info on a case.

  Again, the image dispersed in a chaotic wave of green magic only to reform. There was his younger self again. He's in the basement with Heather. They kiss, hands roaming over each other. The he leaves, his younger self unaware that the condom will never be used, the next time he sees his childhood friend will be in the morgue.

  "Don't go you fool," Stiles chocked out to his younger self. 

  The tears were flowing freely as that image to dissipated. They were all his failiers, not even the small ones, just some of the bigger ones. The ones that hurt the most. When the glow recedes again he is  in another basement with his younger self, the younger Stiles had his leg trapped in a bear trap, the Nogitsune crouched near his petrified past self . Sparks, then he's looking at younger Stiles kneeling on the glass, looking down at the basement wearing the clothes of an Eichen House patient.

  The images were coming faster, the magic swirling almost constantly as it had no time to fully form the memory before there was the next one. Every bad thing he did as the Nogitsune, the Oni, the sword through Scott's gut... the hospital.

  It was all whirling around him and a confusing mess of guilt, fear and regret. Then it wasn't. It stopped.

  He was standing in the room where he had first seen the Nemeton, the stump of it anyway. Where he had come with Scott and Allison for the ritual in the freezing ice bath so that they could find their parents. The room where all of the Nogitsune mess started.

  The room was the same, white, stretching on endlessly, white pillars, lights in the roof illuminating everything. But there was a change, a difference to how it had been when they were last there. The Nemeton still stood there, only now it was the full tree as it had been in the clearing.

  It was at that moment that he felt it. Felt _her_. Ide.

  At the foot of the tree green magic gathered and formed into his familiar. His beloved she-wolf. Stiles rushed to her before she was even fully solid. As soon as she was he pulled her close, sinking his fingers into her thick, soft fur and burring his head in her neck. He could feel the relief and happiness in the wolf as she swiped a sandpaper tongue over the back of his own neck.

  As he pulled away, he saw it. They were crouched by the massive trunk of the tree, the twisting branches and silent leaves all around them. And there, lodged in the trunk, was an arrow. Stiles recognized the black shaft and the careful feathering, heart picking up a beat. He put out a shaky hand and yanked the arrow from the wood. Green magic quickly worked to heal the bark where the arrowhead had pierced it but Stiles only briefly registered that change, staring instead at the arrowhead itself. Silver, emblazoned with the Argent crest, one of six forged by Allison Argent.

  "I'm really glad you came Stiles," a voice said behind him.

  The Spark spun around, his heart stopping. There she stood, dark hair falling down over her shoulders, soft, friendly smile curving her lips and no sign that the Oni sword had ever run her through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year guys! Bring on 2017! Thank you all for all of your comments, kudos and support, it's greatly appreciated. :) Have a great year.


	21. Guilt

Stiles felt his heartbeat racket up, the organ throwing itself against his ribs. Subconsciously he had backed himself up, only realising this as his back hit the rough bark of the Nemeton's trunk, while he clutched the arrow shaft like it was a lifeline.

  "Are you... are you..." Stiles tried to get words out but he just couldn't. So much of the guilt over the death of the young woman before him welled in his chest. 

  "I'm not alive Stiles, I'm still dead. But I've been waiting, we have," Allison Argent said gesturing behind him at the Nemeton." There is so much that we have to tell you."

  "How did you know that I was coming?" Stiles asked hoarsely.

  "Because you were born with an immense power, one that the Nogitsune awakened for you," Allison said," and a power that great will always come back to the source, back to the Nemeton."

  "The source?"

  "Yes, no one knows where the Sparks came from do they, someone of great courage? Well they were half right. The woman fought something that took over her heart much as the Nogitsune did with yours, the Nemeton chose her for her strength, it wasn't a chance thing. You see, the Nemeton has been around far longer than anyone came comprehend, it is the First Tree, embellished with great powers. It is the starting spring of magic, the source that feeds the river which feeds the tributaries, which feed the springs. Everything magical came from this tree. At the moment you are the only Spark alive, not a single living person had ever known that a Spark actually isn't a chance occurrence.

  Every Spark is gifted with magic because they are destined to be great. Again, there is a lot of people destined for this "greatness" but fate isn't a fixed thing, the line of time isn't a straight line. It fluctuates, changes with every choice that every person makes. Fate and destiny are a projection, they aren't complete certainty. So the magic is given to the people that are most likely to be great and good. The Nemeton has been wrong before, but only twice in all the hundreds of Sparks. Not even thousands. Many  that have been recorded in past times were in fact warlocks pretending to be Sparks, offspring tainted by out shoots of magic. 

  This is the truth Stiles. You were chosen because you are fated to be great and good and so far all of your choices have proved that you are so. Adversus Sparks, there have been ten throughout the entirety of history. But there is something big blocking your true potential," Allison told him.

  Stiles was entranced, he had no doubts that what Allison said was the truth. And it was fascinating, he ran his fingers over the bark of the tree. The source of all magic. He had never realised the true magnitude of the Nemeton's power, the Pack had known that it possessed a large supply of magic but not that large. And the way Allison spoke... it was as if the tree was conscious.

  "Do you know what that thing is Stiles?" Allison asked him.

  "What?" Stiles sputtered in surprise.

  "Do you know what is holding you back?" Allison calmly repeated.

  "N-no."

  "Then I will tell you; it is guilt," she said, "all of those scenes and places, we showed them to you for a reason. You blame yourself for your mother's death, for Heather's, for Scott getting bitten. Guilt where there should be non."

  "What do you want me to do? I can't change how I feel!" Stiles exclaimed in frustration, taking a step away from the Nemeton and towards her.

  "First, you need to truly except that none of those things were your fault, that fate brought events to happen, that you could have done nothing. Secondly, you need to eradicate the true source of your self doubt. Cure the disease."

  "Disease?" Stiles asked nervously, licking his lips. This was crazy, but it all made so much sense.

  At his feet he felt Ide shift and he dropped the hand not holding the arrow shaft so that he could bury it in her fur. She was his anchor now, not just Malia and in that moment Stiles was pretty sure that she was the only thing that made him stand tall.

  "Come here Stiles," Allison said and Stiles found himself obeying without question.

  He stepped away from the Nemeton towards her, stopping an arms length away. She smiled warmly at him before taking his hand. She held it in one of her own hands, palm up as she dropped something in it. Her necklace. The one passed down through her family.

  "I- I can't take this," Stiles stuttered, it was a family heirloom, passed down for generations. Stiles wasn't an Argent.

  "I want you to wear it for courage, just like it gave me. The Argents have been hunters for as long as there has been werewolves to hunt but something tells me that you will do a better job at protecting those who need it. We protect those who cannot protect themselves. I know you can do that for me Stiles. We just need to make sure that it is gone." 

  The corners of her eyes crinkled with such passion that he couldn't help but look down before slipping the silver chain over his head, the pendant coming to rest over his heart. When he looked back up Allison was holding a silver knife that he had never seen before, along the edge was engraved the word Adversus with an image of fire curling up one side and a wave of water the other, in the hilt there was several small green emeralds.

  "Look behind you, you will know what to do. Just want it with all your heart," she whispered, standing so close now. He could feel the heat of her body, feel her breaths. But she wasn't alive? 

  The Spark stared for a moment as the blade was passed to him, his hand automatically curling around the hilt. The young woman looked down then and Stiles followed her gaze. She was looking down at his cloth covered arms. Allison gave a small huff of laughter before she pushed back both sleeves, leaving the tattooed flesh exposed. Then she ran a hand down over all of the ink, the touch sent sparks of magic through his entire body causing the marks to begin to glow.

  "Who would have thought Stiles?" She gazed up at him, two pairs of brown eyes locking, "now I think that we should get on with the cure."

  Stiles nodded his agreement before taking a shaky step backwards and turning back towards the Nemeton. Back toward the great tree where it stood. Framed by the massive trunk and fanning leaves was the bandaged face of the Nogitsune, teeth gritted in a leer and foul stench reaching Stiles' nose even from the distance they were at.

  "Don't listen to the dead girl Ssstiles. You killed her, she'll want revenge. What do you think is going to happen if you use that blade?" it hissed maliciously.

  "I was hoping it would get rid of you," Stiles spat as anger welled up in him.

  Taking a shaky breath he pulled on all of the magic until it was pumping up to the surface, his veins running green as sparks of the same colour danced off of his body. Ide morphed into her spirit form, her emerald form framing his human body as flames started to lick from his fingertips.

  Stiles lunched forward at that moment, before the dark kitsune could react. The magic flowed up the Spark's arm into the blade which he thrust straight into the Nogitsune's chest. There was a gurgling sound and black oozed from the creature's mouth, it was nothing like the last time they had supposedly got rid of the thing. The teenager pulled the knife back, it slid out with a slick, squelching sound, revealing it to be covered in the same black blood. As if that was it's last support, the monster fell to the ground where it shattered into a million pieces.

  The Inked Emissary felt a tightness lift from his chest, the anger disperse and the magic recede back to the core of his being as he watched anxiously for a fly to appear. Non did.

  "You have erased it from the planet, it is dead, never coming back Stiles," Allison told him quietly, having appeared just behind him and resting a hand on his shoulder.

  Ide looked up at him from where she had reformed, her wolf tail wagging insistently. Stiles knew that Allison was speaking the truth, just as his familiar did, he could feel it. A smile curled his lips, then a laugh escaped him.

  "You're free now," Allison smiled openly at him.

  She took a step back and Stiles fully turned to face her, his own smile fully in place.

  "It's time for you to go now Stiles. It was amazing to see you again, remember to leave the guilt behind, there is no need to carry things that aren't yours to carry," she said almost sadly, "and Stiles...look after Scott for me."

  "Yeah," Stiles croaked, the goodbye sucking the joy from him, "'cause I will, it's a miracle he survived this long without me anyhow."

  At that Allison laughed openly. That's the last thing he saw as the place around him started to lose colour, the Nemeton disappearing before he found himself in the swirling magic again. Everything there was green but for her, the colour gone but still she looked at him fondly the laughter continuing until she flicked out of existence and everything exploded in a green shower.


	22. Going our Separate Ways

Stiles gasped for breath as he scrabbled a ground the was so clearly solid. He rolled over and looked up, up into the full branches of the Nemeton, the calmly rustling leaves and the serenity of a being that had seen it all.

  "Stiles?" he heard someone call, Malia, it was Malia, his Malia.

  He pulled himself up into a sitting position, running his hand through Ide's fur as the wolf came into his line of site. As he did so he realised that he was still holding the arrow in his hand, looking down he saw that the knife he had used in the Nogitsune was still clutched in the other, dripping with the black blood. Around his neck he felt the weight of the pendant. Did it mean that what happen was real?

  "Stiles, what happened?" Malia asked, suddenly beside him with a hand grasping his shoulder.

  "I just got rid of him for good," Stiles replied quietly, a smile playing on his lips as he lent back against his girlfriend. He was free at last.

  "Got rid of who Stiles?" Lydia asked behind the two.

  "The Nogitsune," Stiles beamed as he pulled himself up until he stood in front of them all.

  "Stiles, is that... is that Allison's?" Scott said, staring at the medallion around the Spark's neck.

  "Yeah, she gave it to me. And this," he held up the knife," and I pulled her arrow out of the Nemeton."

"Wait, what do you mean my daughter gave those to you?" Chris asked, a look of utter sadness on his face.

  "Who is Allison?" Tommy asked.

  "A friend who died," Scott said quietly.

  "She's still dead, it's... it's really hard to explain. I know where Sparks are really from now though, we could write a book together Mitchell," Stiles said, smiling weakly and rubbing the back of his neck.

***

  They had left the clearing in silence, no one really knowing what to say, all just following Stiles. The Spark hadn't been overly enthusiastic about starting up conversation either as the glow of killing the Nogitsune wore off and all he could remember was Allison.

_"Leave the guilt behind."_

_"Look after Scott for me."_

_"You're free now."_

Her words bounced around his mind, the last smile all he could see as he drove back to Derek's loft. She had been so real, he had felt her breath against his skin. How had she been dead? He wished so badly that she wasn't. That he would turn and she would be sat there beside Malia. That he would be able to pick up and pass her the silver arrow, take the necklaces from around his neck and put it around hers. But he knew that wasn't going to happen. He knew that it was the deep, ancient magic of the Nemeton. Now that the Nogitsune was dead though, the magic wouldn't have to hold her there, she could go off to where ever the dead go. Be at peace.

  It all left Stiles with the question of what he was going to do next. What he was going to do now that he was free. Now that he was the most powerful creature on earth. Which in itself was crazy as hell.

***

  The morning a week later found Stiles pacing back and forth, across the length of his and Malia's room in Derek's apartment. The Borden Pack had stayed in Beacon Hills for a week to check that whatever had gone down at the Nemeton had done it's job, that the supernatural creatures would stop being drawn to Beacon Hills. It seemed to be that way, which meant that the Pack was going back to Greenwood.

  Which left Stiles with a choice.

  McCall or Borden. McCall or Borden. Beacon Hills or Greenwood. Scott and Lydia or Mitchell and Tommy.

  The idea of choosing had plagued him for the past week. Every since he had been released from the magic of the Nemeton, from the source of all magic.

  In the end, after days of worrying he felt that he had come to a decision.

_"Look after Scott for me."_

  _"Look after Scott for me."_

  He could do that, even if it was totally unnecessary as his friend was a true alpha. Still, he would look out for his oldest friend, for Scott and for Allison. 

 And he could do that from as far a Greenwood. Because this time he could stay in touch. He could leave Beacon Hills and all the ghosts that still lurked there but he could keep hold of his friends from both halves of his life.

***

  As the rest of the Borden's filed down the stairs to the back door and to where the cars were, John caught hold of Stiles' arm. 

  "I see that you decided to join us," he beamed, glancing at the duffel that was sung over the Spark's shoulder.

  "Yeah, you're still stuck with me," Stiles laughed.

  He and Malia deposited their bags in the jeep before turning back to where the McCall Pack stood watching them sadly.

  Stiles walked over slowly, nerves and sadness mingling in his gut. The day was hot so he was wearing a t-shirt, exposing long yet now muscled and inked up arms. He still felt his father glance at the tattoos as he got closer, not yet being used to the thought of such a display on his son.

  "So you're off," the Sheriff commented.

  "Yeah, but this time we will keep in touch, come down to visit from time to time," Stiles smiled at his dad before he was pulled into a tight hug which he quickly returned.

  Lydia and Melissa came for hugs next, then Kira. Isaac stood back but gave him a nod of acknowledgement while Chris gave his shoulder a light squeeze. Then it was Scott's turn. He hugged his friend like they always had, as if the years before hadn't kept them apart. When they broke up the hug Stiles dug in his jeans pocket, pulling something out and wrapping it in Scott's hand. The alpha gave him a curious look and Stiles offered him a small smile.

  "She would have wanted you to have it. Let it give you courage like it did for her... and me," Stiles said to him quietly, putting a supportive hand on his friend's shoulder as the other opened up his hand and stared down at the Argent crest.

  His human eyes softened and he took a deep breath before pulling Stiles into another hug.

  "Thank you man," he breathed in the Spark's ear before letting go for a second time.

  With that Stiles took a step back until he stood alongside Malia and Ide. He gave his friends one last smile and a small wave before he and Malia linked fingers. They turned and headed off towards Stiles' jeep, ready to start a new chapter of life where everything was resolved.

                                      **END**  

  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all the kudos and comments, it all helped spur me on a lot and now it's done! Yay! I hope you enjoyed this and thank you again.


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